A Decade of New Years
by Sweetly Sarcastic
Summary: Hermione and George aren't dating. They aren't together. But they do happen to live together and have a baby and spend every New Year's Eve over ten years together, during which time Hermione has a terrible habit of crying... [COMPLETE]
1. Year One

_A/N:_ So... I started this over a year ago and thought I could get in done in time for New Years. Clearly, I could not. But it's all done now :)

* * *

This was very ill-advised.

Everything leading up to this moment had also been ill-advised, but this, this felt _especially _ill-advised.

George was kissing her neck, with one hand traveling up and down her torso, and the other holding tight on her hip with a possession that said "it doesn't matter that this is ill-advised, you aren't going anywhere".

Not that she could, anyway, when he bit gently at her neck and her knees went weak. The hand on her hip was suddenly saying "don't worry I won't let you collapse into a weak-kneed puddle on the ground" and she was grateful to it.

She could still hear the noises from the party downstairs until his roaming hand slipped under her dress, discovering her own ill-advised decision from earlier in the day to forego knickers in anticipation of this very moment.

And then it all disappeared, and it was only him.

* * *

She could go back to the ill-advised beginning and try to trace their story to the beginning, but honestly, it was still a blur. There were things that she could remember, that she knew, distinctly. Fred had died. Ron had broken up with her via owl and retreated to Romania. Harry and Ginny had eloped suddenly and taken a month long honeymoon abroad.

Basically, they had both found themselves bereft of the most important relationships they had ever had in their lives, in the span of about 3 months.

She had ended up sitting next to him at Harry and Ginny's belated wedding reception and then he had found her as she hid in the garden when Ron became unbearable. He hadn't actually been looking for her, but rather, for his own hiding place, and almost left, except that she had an extra drink to share and they had ended up talking and suddenly the reception was over, and Ron had already left, and she went home without thinking of him again anyway.

There was lots of drinking and talking in a corner at mandatory shindigs after that. Harry and Ginny's housewarming party. Ron and Charlie's back-for-a-week-see-you-next-year party. Most of Mrs. Weasley's Sunday night dinners, to the matriarch's great chagrin.

And then somehow it was sometimes just talking. On his way to his monthly meeting with his accountant, he'd bring her coffee to the library. On her way home on exceptionally boring or difficult days, she'd stop by his joke shop for a laugh. They understood without asking that there were things that didn't need to be discussed. And after everything with Ron, there was something very oddly comfortable in having a relationship with someone she both had a limited history with, and someone whom she could leave first.

That sounded cold. She enjoyed his company. But she had no expectations of him, nor, as far as she could tell, he of her. She was not the just Brains of the Golden Trio. He was not just the Funny One. She was not just Ron's Ex-Girlfriend. He was not just Fred's Surviving Twin Brother.

And she could leave him. She didn't feel a sense of obligation to him, despite their fledgling friendship. She was not 11 and lonely and desperate for friendship anymore- she was 18 and had some friends in various states and honestly needed some alone time. She could take time alone if she needed, and knew if he left her first, it still wouldn't break her.

Although, to be fair, she wasn't sure that there was much that could break her anymore. She had already endured so much. And there wasn't much left to break, anyway. Not enough to left to muster any real relationship.

She found it easy to be friends with someone under those circumstances. If she were being more accurate, she'd say easy to be _friendly_ with someone under those circumstances. Probably those circumstances precluded an actual friendship. That was fine.

And that was how it was for several months. Talking sometimes, drinking and talking sometimes at uncomfortable formalities.

And then the Hogwarts Reopening Ceremony.

It was a terrible idea. Hermione would have burned the rest of the school down and rebuilt the school in a different location. Why did they need a whole castle for a few hundred people, anyway? Why all those stairs? And why Scotland? It was so far and so cold. Poppy had constantly been fighting students' hypothermia. Altogether, very impractical for a school for children.

Also now it housed all sorts of terrible memories. Even the good memories on the grounds were tainted by the knowledge of what would happen later. She couldn't think of the courtyard where she had punched Malfoy without also remembering that she had seen Lavender die there. The Great Hall was the worst, a juxtaposition of great memories in school poisoned by memories of walking the rows of dead and finding the bodies of Tonks and Remus.

She could have burned the rest of the school down.

But she didn't. War heroes did not commit arson. They did not skip official events. Especially when their program's heads were going too. Especially when she was supposed to give a short speech.

Bollocks. Of course she cared about education for the children. Of course she supported the school's plan to extend its muggle studies programs. Of course she was a fan of more arts and fitness programs and a new dedicated school therapist and counselor and of course she understood those things cost money and of course it would be a great opportunity to seek financial support from potential donors.

Bugger Minerva. The former headmistress might as well have been in Slytherin.

Hermione took a shot for courage before leaving home (was she drinking too much? Who knows?). On a whim, she apparated to George's first.

"You look nice," he said. She supposed she did. She had shirked all school colors and was wearing a deep purple floor-length dress. She wouldn't have been able to afford anything remotely as nice on her meagre stipend if she hadn't gone shopping with Ginny, who had a sharp eye for finding sales, and a silver tongue for requesting extra discounts, for the War Hero, who was giving a speech at the Opening, and everyone was going to be there, you know.

Hermione was too poor to be embarrassed at her friend's antics and accepted the final, absurdly small price.

But she didn't acknowledge his compliment. "Do you have an extra flask I could borrow?" She asked instead. She waved her half-full handle. "I can supply the sustenance if you do."

Ten minutes later they left together, each hiding a flask full of whiskey.

Her speech was short and sweet and awful and afterwards she made polite small talk with sycophantic "potential donors" for the goddamned children before deciding that the 11 year olds would have to make do with maybe just arts and no fitness programs or counselor and she disappeared outside.

It was chilly out by the lake, despite being the middle of summer (again- _why Scotland?_) and she pulled out her flask for a little liquid warmth.

She heard him approach and briefly hid behind a tree to avoid having to smile and say "really, any support would make _such_ an impact" until she realized it was just him.

"Hey," she said.

He had also pulled his flask out and raised his for a toast. "To your everlasting eloquence".

She made a face and raised her flask. "To there being enough whiskey left in this flask to get me through the rest of this nice."

There was at least enough to get her drunk. At some point they laid on the grass on the lake shore. Her flask ran out, and then his, and they stood.

"I don't think we have to go back," he slurred.

The mixture of alcohol and standing too quickly made her head spin. "I don't think we should go back in this state anyway," she said, and maybe most of the words were right.

"How much more do you need to drink to not remember this terrible night?" He asked.

She tried to think about it. More, definitely. She was not yet to black out but definitely drunk. "At least a few more."

He offered his hand. "Would you care to join me to promptly forgetting this party ever happened?"

They went back to his flat above his shop and finished her bottle of whiskey and vowed to never go back to Hogwarts again.

She laughed. "I will say though-" she hiccupped "-I will say, it is nice, that my last memories of Hogwarts are no longer _That_."

He did a cheers to her for that. "I think, it's nice, that now my last memory of Hogwarts is Hermione Granger in that purple dress getting sloshed by the lake. There's something deeply ironic about that."

She laughed. "Ten points from Gryffindor for public intoxication!" she squeaked in a joke. "We could get detention, or worse, expelled!"

He laughed so hard his face turned red and that made her laugh in turn. "But also," she added, after catching her breath again. "I think you misused the word "ironic"." She was drunk. But she was serious.

That only made him laugh harder. "Shuddup, Granger," he choked between laughs.

And maybe it was laughing and maybe it was drinking and maybe it was because everything else was so awful but suddenly he was kissing her.

She wouldn't remember the rest later, because of the drinking, and how fast it all happened, but would remember that it was definitely _not _awful after that.

They didn't talk about it after that. But it did become a thing. Sometimes they would just talk. And sometimes they would drink and talk. And sometimes they would drink and talk and fuck.

* * *

Midnight had passed by the time they were done and left. She emerged back into the sad remnants of a party she knew Harry and Ginny would clean up lazily over the next few days. Cups and streamers littered the floor and Neville was slumped over in an armchair, snoring heavily with his silly party hat still on.

She cleaned most of it with a simple charm and the cups were dive-bombing themselves into a trash bag when George came down the steps. They'd been careful, staggering their departure from the attic, and him taking the back stairs to the kitchen before cutting across the house to the living room. Much more careful than they needed to be, they realized now.

The streamers were falling to their own efficient disposal when he kissed her cheek. "Happy New Year, Granger," he whispered in her ear. Somehow this gesture, despite everything else they had done in the past few months, everything they had literally _just _done upstairs in the attic, made her blush scarlet.

"You too," she muttered, not turning to face him to try to conceal her flushed face.

She heard the crack of disapparation behind her as he left, and she continued on the streamers.


	2. Year Two

_Author's Note: _Big surprises ahead

* * *

She would not cry she reminded herself resolutely as she sat in her warm bath. She had been decadent and used both bubbles and bath salts and had a trashy magazine, a tray of cheese and crackers, and a mug of hot chocolate on standby. The wizarding wireless was playing softly in the kitchen, carrying on into the bathroom. She had been able to distract herself with arranging the details of the Perfect Bath but now that she was in the tub with nothing to do she felt an ache in her throat, a forewarning of tears she wanted to avoid.

She laid her head back and tried to concentrate on the feeling of the water on her toes. On the salt of the camembert. On the cream of the hot chocolate. She tried the trashy magazine but even Megan Markle's family drama couldn't distract her for long enough (well, it wasn't as if she were going to read wizarding trashy mags - she was still involuntarily featured in far too many of them).

Fuck.

What was she going to do.

The bath felt suffocating and the knot in her throat was swelling. She stood suddenly and wrapped herself in a robe. She couldn't make it to her bed and dropped instead on the couch. She was going to cry. She reconciled herself to that reality. She was going to cry. That was ok. Crying was normal in this situation. It didn't make her weak. It didn't make her terrible.

With that final rationalization the torrent began.

Doubled over her knees, she sat on her couch and sobbed, hot, fat tears. It was blinding and suffocating and she ached from her furrowed brow to her shaking diaphragm.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

What was she going to do.

She had been so stupid and so careless. That made it all the worse. It had ruined everything and she felt guilty for thinking that it ruined everything. Her guilt and shame and sorrow spiraled on each other and she cried.

They called her the Brightest Witch of Her Age. It was laughable. All she'd done over the last year and a half was make bad choices. Realistically, she was probably just a month of poor decisions off from being a high functioning alcoholic, working hard during the day, and drinking heavily on most of her free nights. She had read that alcohol made memory worse and so she just studied harder, because that was the logical decision for a law student to make. Sometimes she drank because whenever she was drunk and ran into him in a club or a bar they went home together, and sometimes she drank because they were already together, and sometimes she drank because she was alone and it numbed the silence in her apartment.

And she couldn't even maintain any healthy adult relationships. She had two good friends, both of whom she had neglected to tell of her affair, and she had let most of her other friends drift away. And then George himself… George was probably her best friend and she fucked him and ignored him in periodic cycles.

For the most part they'd see each other at least once a week for some reason or the other but that wasn't always the case. He'd picked her up at a bar one Friday night over the summer and they'd spent the rest of the weekend together, setting her personal record for rounds within 24 hours, and then she left for work Monday morning and didn't see him again for three weeks afterwards.

None of that was normal. Her life was an ill-advised mess and she was an idiot and it was about to get so much worse.

She sobbed.

She was nowhere near done when there was a knock on the door. Fucking New Years. She just needed to stay home and have a cry on the couch alone and leave it to her two fucking friends to show up anyway. She'd bet they had sent Ginny to try to drag her to the club where the rest of their friends were celebrating.

She took a deep breath. She didn't want to explain the crying. She couldn't avoid Ginny. So she'd need to buck up and get presentable.

"Just a minute" she called. She got up and shucked the wet bathrobe in favor of a knit dress. It was cozy and more importantly, meant she only needed to don one article of clothing instead of two. She stopped back in the bathroom to splash her face with water and try to mop up her tears with a washcloth until she was moderately presentable.

The knocking continued. "Coming!" she called. She twisted her horrid wet hair back into a knot at the back of her head. Fuck. She still looked terrible. But that was probably as good as it was going to get.

The insistent knocking continued as she crossed back over her living room and to the door. "I'm here!" She called. Ginny was in fine, irritating form.

But when she swung open the door it wasn't Ginny.

"George."

She was partially stunned and didn't move from the doorway, though he didn't move in the hall either.

Whatever bravado had possessed him to knock at the door was gone. He looked lost as he stared at his shoes. "Hi, um, can I come in?"

She opened the door and stepped back. He made his way to her couch and sat down heavily. She shut the door and followed him, reclaiming her spot from only moments ago.

They sat there for a minute. She had already said everything she had to say. She didn't know what else she could say.

He finally broke the silence. "I'm sorry I left." he said. "I panicked. That's not fair to you, I know. I'm so sorry."

It was perhaps more than she could have hoped for and the lump in her throat swelled with fresh tears. She swallowed and try to shove it back down and ignore it. "I understand," she said. "It's a lot to take in."

He took a deep breath. "Yeah, it is. But I shouldn't have run away. Let's talk about it now. Is that ok?"

She nodded. "Ok."

"So…. what do you know so far?"

Facts. She could do facts. Those were clear. "I noticed I was late at Christmas. According to my calendar, my period should have started Christmas Eve as an early unwanted gift." She didn't mention that she remembered that specifically when she had noticed it on her calendar, because she was annoyed it would interfere with going home with him after too much eggnog at Molly's Christmas Eve supper.

"At first I thought it was stress or lack of sleep. And then, with the party tonight, I thought, better be really sure before I drink too much. I took the test yesterday. It was positive."

He nodded slowly, processing. "And you're… you're sure?"

"I took both a muggle and a magical test. I haven't confirmed with a healer yet but … yeah, I'm pretty sure."

His head bobbed in another slow nod. "Ok. Ok. We can… we can go first thing Monday and confirm together, if you want."

She closed her eyes. "Yeah. That would be good."

"And if you are… we'll figure it out, yeah? It'll be ok."

The knot in her throat didn't ease despite the relief she felt. Instead, it suddenly overwhelmed her and she started to cry again.

She doubled over again and turned her head away from him, embarrassed of her sudden tears.

He laid his hand on her back cautiously, as if they hadn't already done a million things together to lead to their current predicament, and began to trace slow circles with his palm.

"It's ok" he whispered. "It's going to be ok. Whatever happens, it'll be ok."

They were still curled up on her couch, though she had finally stopped crying, when the wizarding wireless announced that it was midnight, and a new year.

His fingers paused where they were stroking her hair. "Happy New Year, Hermione," he whispered.

"Happy New Year, George," she replied, and closed her eyes.

* * *

Review to tell me if the baby should be a boy or a girl! (just kidding, this fic is finished and it's already decided! Review anyway!)

In other news, I have been reading _The Happier Project _by Gretchen Rubin. One of her tenets of happiness is to "Be more Gretchen", which largely means giving yourself permission to enjoy the things you do, and stop trying to enjoy things you don't. Today, for me, that meant more fanfiction, less dodgeball. Another plus of this plan: fanfiction never nails you in the face with a dodgeball. So. Anyway. Review because you feel bad for my face and want more fanfiction.


	3. Year Three

"Who's a good girl? Who loves her Aunt Ginny?" Ginny squealed in her baby voice while gently bouncing the infant in her arms. "Who gave her grandma big ideas about needing more grandchildren?" The infant watched her aunt with big eyes. "That's right, you!" You, you, you!"

Ginny kiss-attacked the baby who used the opportunity to to lunge for her aunt's silver earrings. Ginny pulled back. "Ow, no, Mione, can you-"

Hermione detached her daughter's hand from Ginny's earring and then picked up the baby. "Who likes shiny things?" Hermione cooed, mocking Ginny's baby voice. "You, you, you!"

Hermione bounced the baby on her hip and looked back at her friend. "Are you ok?"

Ginny nodded as she pocketed her earrings. "She's gotten so big. And strong."

Hermione nodded. "And grabby. It's convenient though. First they make you fat while you're pregnant, and then they act as free weights so you can tone up again, and when they lunge and toddle off it's good cardio."

Ginny tapped her niece's nose. "You are a good exercise routine, did you know that?"

She giggled in response like she knew the adults were talking about how she drove her mother crazy.

Ginny looked back up at Hermione. "Mum's already asked me twice today if Harry and I are _really _sure we aren't ready yet. I think having this one broke the dam on the limited chill she had about waiting for grandchildren."

Hermione was not surprised. She and George had worried about telling his mother about the pregnancy, and waited until Hermione was practically having a heat stroke from still wearing a mumu to cover her bump in late April, but as Molly cried and hugged Hermione's belly in the kitchen after they did finally tell her, Hermione realized that _of course _she wouldn't be anything but happy: she wanted her children to have happy relationships and get married, but more than anything, she wanted babies.

"THERE'S MY BABY" Mrs Weasley shrieked, as if on cue. She made record time across the living room to pick up Annika from Hermione.

"You've gotten so big!" she cooed. "So big!"

Hermione laughed. "Molly, you saw her last two days ago. I hardly think she's grown since then."

"Two days is a long time when they're this little," Molly insisted. "She has gotten bigger. I'll get the measuring tape."

Molly whisked the baby to the kitchen, where her measuring tape and notebook were tucked in a convenient drawer. She had added Annika to her pantry door height chart and been vigilant about her measurements. To be fair, Annika had been born early and small, but she had caught up quickly with her age group in size and was a very healthy baby.

Hermione found it exceptionally funny, considering that Annika had a height recorded once a month since she was born, and by her own markings, Molly's own children hadn't started until they were a year or so old, and even after that it was sporadic.

Molly was also watching the baby every other afternoon during the week. George would drop her off in the morning for nursery and then Molly would pick her up, and Hermione would pick her up from the Burrow. It was charmingly domestic, and Molly was an absolute godsend, if not also an absolute fanatic about the child in question. She saw Annika almost daily but she still insisted she needed more always hesitated to have Molly over to their house for fear she would never return to her own.

"Is George coming?" Ginny asked.

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, but he said he would probably be working late tonight selling New Year's garb. Apparently his indoor fireworks are a real hit this year."

Hermione glanced into the kitchen, where Arthur was holding Annika and blowing raspberries on her belly while Molly was on her knees, marking with painstaking precision Annika's height from just now. They were the picture of adoring, obsessive grandparents. Grateful as she was, she couldn't wait for Bill and Fleur or Ginny and Harry or literally anyone else to start having kids.

Neville arrived then, with Luna (would Molly take their babies as her own grandbabies?), and Andromeda and Teddy, and also Hannah and Dean. Apparently, the group had collectively agreed that the previous New Year's Eve had been too much, and vowed to spend this New Year's a little more sober. Hermione didn't know why that had to mean the Burrow exactly, but here they were. She didn't have the energy for much else anyway and and at least the childcare was good.

She collapsed on the couch with Ginny and Luna and Hannah while they drank and she listened idly to their gossip. She had not had a drink in a little over a year and she found she was generally too tried to miss it. That, at least, was one life improvement in the previous year: decent maternal instincts had intervened in her quick descent to alcoholism. The number of ill-advised decisions she had made in the past year and subsequently diminished. And she was probably an ok mom. The four-month old had not as of yet displayed any sociopathic tendencies, at least.

Hermione briefly caught a glimpse of George's clock hand move from "work" to 'traveling" and then he popped out of the floo. He smiled at her warmly, despite seeing her just a few hours earlier when she had stopped by with Annika to see if he was going to be able to make it to his parent's New Year's party. He paused to ruffle his sister's hair with affection and kiss Hermione on the cheek before heading to the kitchen.

"There's my girl!" He exclaimed. Hermione watched him through the archway into the kitchen as he scooped up Annika from his father and blew his own raspberries to her tiny belly.

Ginny nudged Hermione's knee with her own and Hermione turned around.

"So…" Ginny said, expectantly.

"...So?" Hermione questioned.

"Are you together yet?" Ginny asked.

Hermione looked at her, disbelieving. "He's your _brother_, Ginny."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I didn't ask for the details if you were shagging. Just like. If you were together. And having lots of late night pillow talk. About how I'll be the maid of honor at your wedding. You know."

Hermione flushed. "We are _not _together."

"It's ok if you are attracted to him," Luna interjected. "You have had intercourse before, obviously, and in many species it is natural for females to be attracted to male mates who are good providers. And it's very clear he is a good father."

This was an awkward conversation Hermione could have continued to avoid for the rest of her life.

"And I've learned he's a good father over late night feedings and spit-up. It's not as if we're making eyes at each other over dirty diapers. We have an infant. It's kind of like living in a giant bathroom that has never been cleaned. And won't be for another 10 years. And also you can never sleep." She didn't add that the last month of her pregnancy, George had insisted she move into his room, "in case something happened and she needed help in the middle of the night", and then she hadn't moved out until Annika was sleeping through the night. She missed her nights accidentally cuddled next to him, not that she would ever admit it.

There was a pause at that and Hermione felt slightly victorious. "Yeah… my mum may never get more grandchildren," Ginny finally said.

After that they moved on to innocuous topics like the magical blood-sucking venus fly-trap variant Luna and Neville had adopted. They had named it Audrey.

Around 11 Hermione wandered through the house. It was far past her new parental bedtime and she was exhausted. She found George in the kitchen with his brothers. Annika was sleeping on one shoulder while he held a beer with his other hand and sipped it carefully over her head. That was going to end terribly.

"Hey," she murmured. "I'll take her."

His brothers' recount of a recent Quidditch game continued around them as she maneuvered her daughter off his shoulder without waking the baby.

"I'm exhausted and she's already out. I'm going to take her home."

He nodded and kissed her cheek again. (He needed to stop doing that in public). "I'll see you at home later then."

She nodded and waved goodbye to the boys before flooing home. Checking the time, she knew Annika would likely wake up hungry in twenty minutes anyway, and she collapsed on the rocker rather than try to put the baby in her crib for just a bit.

The sudden silence of the house surprised her. It had been so loud at the party, and usually was so loud anyway, with Anika crying and George puttering about (exploding things in the basement, usually). The silence disturbed her a little and she turned on the radio wandlessly as she looked around her living room.

She was so fucking grateful for the house . And for George. When she had told him she was pregnant a year ago, and he had panicked and left, she had come home to her tiny flat and realized she had no idea what she was going to do. She was broke and alone and scared.

And she had realized he was no longer someone she could leave first. She was strong and independent and the Brightest Witch of Her Age, but she needed him.

This New Year's was so different from the last. In a year she had moved in with him and had his baby and ironically they had stopped sleeping together (infants killed libido. She would get Poppy to include that in health pamphlets at Hogwarts).

But a big part of it was that she had mostly stopped making ill-advised choices, and sleeping with your baby daddy was a big ill-advised choice. They had semi-unanimously agreed (she had proposed it, he had agreed, and that counted) that part of their relationship needed to end when they'd found out she was pregnant. Being successful at co-parenting was more important than risking it for some sex and potential romantic entanglements.

Not that it made it easier. She was absurdly horny starting the fifth month of her pregnancy and he was somehow preternaturally handsome and smelled good and was always around.

That probably would have only gotten worse throughout her pregnancy, except that in her third trimester she had some complications. She was at St Mungo's for a week, with the Weasley's and Harry taking turns holding vigil at her bedside. When she was finally released, George somewhat-forcefully offered her a room in his new house. Given that her currently tiny flat had no space and she had only-half-joking thoughts about putting the baby to sleep in a dresser drawer, she accepted his offer.

He had bought the house, a cottage not far from his parents but decidedly Not Walking Distance either, the month after she told him she was pregnant. He had deemed his tiny messy flat over his shop as similarly ill-suited for a child, but unlike her, he could actually afford an alternative. He found a three bedroom cottage with a yard. He had taken her to inspect it, ostensibly because it was the home their child would spend a lot of time in. She had thrown up twice on the short visit and could vouch that the cottage had good plumbing.

She loved their house. She loved their routine. The past four months had been so crazy with their newborn she hadn't paused to think about it, but they had agreed, when she moved in, that they would re-evaluate when Annika turned one and no longer needed such constant attention from both her parents. Hermione would be graduated by then, and hopefully wouldn't have to put her daughter in a dresser drawer. Her next New Year's would likely be very different.

Her daughter stirred right on schedule, her tiny mouth beginning to pucker. Hermione fed her and then began to rock and try to burp her.

It wasn't yet midnight when she heard the crack of apparation on the porch and then George walked into the living room. He smiled at the sight of them.

"You're back early," Hermione said. "You didn't want to stay?"

George kicked off his boots at the door and sat down at the couch. "And let you have my favorite girl all to yourself for a New Year's kiss? You wish, Granger. Come here."

She shuffled over and joined him on the couch, Annika on her shoulder between them. George put out a hand to rub her back. "She looks so peaceful. You'd never guess she spends half her time screaming when she's awake."

Hermione laughed. "And the other half pooping."

"The little tyrant," he said, but his tone was soft and he was still rubbing her tiny back.

"Please. You're wrapped around her little finger," Hermione teased.

George looked up from Annika suddenly and caught her eye. "I've been thinking a lot today about last New Year's," he swallowed. "Specifically, about how ashamed I am for leaving. I had no idea… I love her more than I could have ever imagined. I can't believe I ever thought I wouldn't. I can't believe I ever thought I could just miss this… and I can't believe I ever thought about hurting her that way. And hurting you."

That was far too real for Hermione. She wasn't done being grateful for everything he had done, and never wanted to think about again that brief, horrid time she thought would be alone for all of it.

Hermione shook her head and demurred. "You panicked, for maybe six hours. It was a surprise. I know it was. But you came back. And you've been an amazing father. I know it wasn't always easy, with me in the hospital, and the complications, and also general infant fussiness. I don't know what I would have done without you." She paused. "Also, realistically, if you had really left, your mother would have killed you, and Annika would have inherited everything, so either way, she would have been ok."

He laughed despite himself. "Mum would have," he agreed. "I thought she was going to kill me just for putting the nappy on wrong once." But he sobered again.

"It's going so fast," he whispered. "She's already so big."

Hermione smiled. "Yes, that's what your mother was insisting."

"She was right. Annika will be off to Hogwarts in no time. No doubt top of her class by the end of her first year."

Hermione laughed. "You may want to hold off on your dreams of her crossing the stage as valedictorian; she can't even walk yet."

The wizarding wireless had begun to count down a minute from midnight. "Fine. Then she'll be walking at the top of her class in no time. Now, Ms Granger, would you like to share this New Year's kiss with me? My date has been very thoughtful and accommodating in having two cheeks to share."

Hermione giggled as George carefully picked up Annika from her shoulder and turned her around so that she could face her parents.

The wireless counted down, 3-2-1, and Hermione and George each kissed one of Annika's cheeks. Unperturbed by her parent's antics, Annika slept through her first New Year's.


	4. Year Four

"Annika, don't eat the sand," Hermione scolded. "No. Yucky."

Annika looked at her mother as if she might disagree on that point but obliged anyway and tottered along to pursue a seagull instead. Hermione sighed. "Honestly, mum, I don't even know what to teach her. I never thought to tell her to not do that. I just assume there's a base level of human instincts she'll have about what to put in her mouth. But she doesn't. It's like she's got my horrid hair, her father's stubbornness, and somehow, her Uncle Ron's appetite."

Hermione's mum laughed. "She'll be ok. They're hardy little things. And don't be so quick to judge - I happen to like her hair, and I know for a fact that is _your _stubbornness, young lady. I also knew a little girl once who tried to eat a book when she didn't like the ending."

Hermione grimaced. Ugh. "_Mum_"

"And mostly succeeded, too," her mum added.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Maybe she had restored her parents' memories _too_ well. Her mum didn't need to remember _everything_. Especially when it was embarrassing.

"You don't need to give her any ideas. I'm sure she'll try that one eventually on her own."

Hermione's mother smiled and looked to the little girl in question, who was toddling after a seagull still, with limited success. "Shall we head home and give her a real dinner?"

Hermione nodded. They had been at the beach most of the day, and despite several coats of sunscreen and a quick but illegal sun protection charm, she could tell her daughter was going to be a little burnt. She took after her father too much in that regard.

Hermione gathered up her daughter and all their things (it really was like the world's worst pair of free weights, as she had insisted to Ginny the year before) before following her mother to the car.

She was visiting her parents in Melbourne for the New Years this year. She had been able to find them and restore their memories not long after the war, but they had decided to stay in Melbourne with their new dental practice. They had been happy with the decision at the time, but having watched them with Annika this week, Hermione had the feeling they might be wishing they had moved closer. She certainly would have welcomed it, if only because it meant no more long trips to Australia.

Her parents had visited, once, right after Annika was born, and this was Hermione's first visit back since restoring their memories. Traveling the first time had been a trek, but doing the series of international portkeys it took to get to Melbourne with an infant was exhausting.

And she missed George. In a practical sense, because he was more hands to hold the baby and the baby gear, and he was better at getting her to eat without getting it everywhere. But also because he was her friend and she missed his jokes and mild pranks and he had finally learned that it wasn't funny to try to pretend he didn't know where the baby was.

They had not, much as she had feared the previous, separated any over the course of the year. Annika's first birthday had come and gone and all he had said was "things are going well, no need to change, right?" and she had agreed. She was still living in his cottage.

She had also ended up taking over the top floor of his shop. It was kind of an accident. She had graduated her legal program in May and found that she was no longer interested in the high-paying, high-stress firms that now sought her out. She hated half the other barristers, and most of their clients, and didn't particularly want to spend 80 hours a week helping rich purebloods avoid taxes and pay off their mistresses. That wasn't what she had wanted to go into law for. The Ministry kept offering her "Public Relations" work when she applied for the few positions in their legal department that interested her, and on the whole, she found that off-putting. Also, SPEW wasn't a paying any wages and she had a tiny mouth to feed.

She was considering starting her own private practice, so she could earn what she needed on case work and do the pro-bono work she wanted, but money was a recurring issue. As in, she had none for start up costs. She would need an office and furniture and utilities and advertising and that all cost money she didn't have.

She had mentioned it awkwardly at a Sunday dinner when Molly pressed too hard to know her plans after graduation. Within ten minutes of admitting she might need help starting her own practice, her semi-adopted mother had been nearly overwhelmed with pride, and forcefully encouraged her children to contribute.

George had been quick to offer up the small flat above his shop, which was a mess but relatively empty since he'd bought his house. Ginny and Harry had volunteered office furniture from Grimmauld Place, as they were redecorating anyway. Luna had promised her an exclusive interview in the Quibbler detailing and supporting her practice. Percy had promised that she would get her diploma from the Ministry in a timely manner so that she could legally begin her operations.

Good old Percy.

She felt silly for not asking for help sooner, but silly for taking so much. She tried to make it up to them, doing patent work for George and reviewing contracts for Ginny. Probably she should have sucked it up and just a normal firm job. But as she had put the finishing touches on her makeshift office space, she was so relieved she hadn't.

She was going to do what she wanted professionally, and her landlord had been very considerate in installing a playpen for Annika, and she was just upstairs from him.

He'd pop up to say hello during the day, or use her kitchenette to make a coffee, or a sandwich at lunch. She'd pick up Annika from Molly on Friday afternoons and they'd all have lunch in the kitchenette before Hermione closed down for the weekend and George went back to work. It was weirdly domestic and absolutely amazing.

Despite all her fears the previous New Years, their lives had, in fact, only gotten more entangled during the course of the year.

But he hadn't come for the New Years. Her mother had been inclined to dislike him, ostensibly for knocking up her only daughter, and that inclination had lasted roughly 2 minutes into her visit to London, when she had seen George playing with Annika. All of her maternal instincts were kicked into overdrive and she decided that if loved her granddaughter that much, he couldn't be all bad. She had invited him to the holidays.

But the holidays were his busy season, and Charlie and Ron were headed back for the holidays for once, and he didn't feel like he could leave. He'd told Hermione she should take Annika for the two weeks and she had left right after Christmas. They had spent Christmas together at the Burrow, hunkered down in his old bedroom at Molly's insistence. She had let them "off the hook", in her words, the previous year because Annika hadn't been sleeping through the night yet the previous year, but had been persistent this year. They didn't talk about it, but Hermione felt uncomfortable nestling into Fred's old twin sized bed.

"You look good there," George had finally said, long after she thought he was asleep. "I think Fred would be happy, if he could see you and me in this room with Annika asleep between us." There was a long pause and Hermione had searched in the dim light to see his expression. "Besides, even if he was around, he would be picking up a bird tonight, not sleeping here."

It was the most relaxed she could ever remember him being when talking about Fred and it uncoiled the discomfort in her belly and she fell asleep.

He had been very sure about the plan for New Years when they made it and begun regretting it basically the next day. He hadn't been apart from Annika for more than a day since she had been born and he hadn't been apart from Hermione since she had moved in with him.

The house was too quiet without them. He woke up and went to bed in silence. He never realized how much he relied on the soft sounds of Annika breathing on her baby monitor and Hermione turning the pages of her book as she stayed awake far too long reading the living room to fall asleep himself. He ate breakfast alone and dinner alone and missed Hermione's cooking as much as her company. He had felt like part of a family, and without them there, he just felt like a strange bachelor living in a giant quiet house.

He hadn't been lying when he said it was his busy season. He was working absurd hours at his shop and then spending time with his family at the Burrow and was hardy home. Which suited him, because when he was home, he was incredibly lonely.

He was glad she was going to see her parents. He was. He just also missed her terribly and wished she weren't gone so long.

She had teased him before she left about finally being able to leave the toilet seat up and having full control of the telly and that after all that freedom he wouldn't even miss them. She was joking but he hadn't been able to laugh. He knew he was going to miss them. He was aching even as they left.

Hermione had taken pictures of Annika everywhere to compensate. At the beach and the zoo and just playing in her grandparent's backyard. She would show him when they got back but she ached too because she knew it would never be the same. She wished he had been there.

"The shoe fit! And so the prince knew that this was finally the beautiful girl he had fallen in love with at the ball. "Please don't disappear again," the Prince said. "Never," replied Cinderella. And so the Prince helped her into his coach, and they drove away together. And they lived happily ever after."

Hermione stood at the door listening to her mum recite Cinderella to her daughter. Annika's eyes were blinking rapidly as she fought sleep, but with the conclusion of a happy ending, she stopped fighting. Her eyes closed, and her breathing evened out as her grandmother held her close and stroked her hair.

They were such a pretty picture. Her little girl snuggled up with her grandmother. It reminded Hermione of her own grandmother, when she was little, who would read her stories and bake cookies with her.

Hermione walked down the hall a step to find the picture she was looking for. Her second Christmas. Wearing a horrendous onesie with equally horrendous hair exploding from the top. She looked like a deranged Dr Seuss character. She was wedged between her mother and her grandmother reading a book. Her father was on her mother's other side and had an arm around her. Her grandfather had taken the picture.

It suddenly hurt Hermione very much that she would never be able to give Annika that kind of family.

Annika had two loving parents, and four doting grandparents, and an absurd number of aunts and uncles. But it wasn't the same kind of family. It wasn't the kind of family where she could run to her parents' room when she had a scary dream and sandwich herself between them. It wasn't the kind of family where she would see her mum kiss her dad goodbye in the morning and think it was yucky as a kid and sweet when she got older. It wasn't the kind of family that she could be sure would always be together.

Hermione would never be able to give her that kind of childhood, that kind of family. She and George both loved their girl terribly, but they weren't together. At some point, Annika would get bigger and Hermione would probably move out and then split custody.

And Dear Merlin, at some point, George would probably date.

He could one day marry some other girl and Annika would have a new step-mum and Hermione would be shuttled to the side in her daughter's life.

It was not a new revelation. There was no surprise in what their family was. But suddenly, with the horrors of infancy behind them, and staring at her family pictures from her own childhood, Hermione felt sad. She had loved her childhood and her family, and had always imagined that one day she would start her own family in very much the same way.

But she hadn't. She had made too many ill-advised choices and that particular door had shut.

Her mother walked out of the nursery and found Hermione still hovering in the hall. "For all the sand she tries to eat, you've really done a smashing job so far, my love," her mother said with a wink. She kissed Hermione's forehead. "Your father's going to pour some daiqiris while we watch the countdown in the sitting room," she said, and then squeezed Hermione's shoulder before leaving, ostensibly for the sitting room.

Her mother had intended no insult but Hermione felt bereft at her words. She felt that despite her mother's praises, despite her daughter being a happy and healthy little sand-eater, she had already failed her daughter in ways she wouldn't even know for years to come.

She went to the bathroom. She could hear the New Year's countdown from the sitting room. She turned on the taps to wash her face and get ready for bed, when suddenly, inexplicably, she began to sob.


	5. Year Five

_Author's Note: _Hope you had a merry Christmas! I have been getting a ton of sleep lately which means that this morning I randomly woke up at 4 am and was WIDE AWAKE FOR NO REASON so here's the next chapter!

* * *

"Annika Weasley, if you take your shoes off one more time, you will not go to your Grandmolly's, where she has cookies for you, and I will put you to bed right this instant instead. Is that what you want?" Hermione stared at her daughter. "Leave your shoes on."

Annika kicked her feet. "Nooooooooo!" She yelled. "No, no, no no no!" She kicked her feet and pulled at the laces again.

"I swear I will glue them to your feet, little witch," Hermione muttered, as her daughter began to roll on the ground, kicking her feet and pounding her pudgy fists into the carpet. "Children who throw temper tantrums go to bed, and they don't get cookies," Hermione said firmly.

Annika stopped kicking and sat up, glaring at her mother. "Mean, mean, mummy," she said.

George was still getting dressed in his bedroom, and Hermione briefly wondered if she could make a break for it and leave her cantankerous beast with him until Annika was a little more mature. Like in ten years. When she was at Hogwarts. Where it was too cold too cold to go barefoot anyway.

Mostly it was good. But nothing made her question her sanity like putting shoes on a toddler and fighting about it for thirty minutes. Maybe shoes _were _terrible, after all. Who even knew? But she'd gotten to the point where her whole day was made if a two year old didn't fight her shoes in the morning. It was pathetic.

George chose right then to walk in, thwarting her escape attempt. He hadn't yet finished his tie or put in his cufflinks and he looked handsomely disheveled in his dark suit as he marched to his daughter. He scooped her up and held her so she faced her mother, even as she continued to try to kick against him.

"You have a very good mummy and you will say sorry to her," he told his daughter. "Or else you will go to bed right now."

Annika squirmed against him. "No!"" she shouted.

"I will count to three." George said sternly.

There was a part of Hermione, one day, that would laugh when she thought of funny, jokester George counting to three to coerce his daughter into apologizing and leaving her shoes on. It was a dorky Classic Dad Move.

But the part of her that thought it was funny wouldn't exist until she had overcome her shoe-related PTSD.

"One." George said and Annika glared.

"Two."

Annika huffed. "I sorry!" She squeaked, saying the right words but with more sarcasm that Hermione had even realized a two year old could muster.

"That you, Annika," Hermione said. She wanted to pinch the little witch instead but she was trying to model good manners.

George rolled his eyes over Annika's head and Hermione caught his expression and returned it with her own that said "she gets this from you."

George put her down. "I am going to finish getting ready and you will leave your shoes on," he commanded. Annika promptly flopped to the floor, silent but clearly sulking.

George looked back up to Hermione and held out his arm sheepishly. "Could you?" He asked and she nearly did laugh at him.

"Sure," she replied, and made short work of one set of cufflinks, and then the other, being finishing his tie as well. "There. Now you're helpless but handsome," she proclaimed with one last tug on his tie.

"You look lovely as well," he told her, eyeing her for the first time. She did love her dark blue dress. It had a fun swishy skirt and was modest but not motherly. She thought for the most part that clothes were silly, and Ginny had teased her for wearing a rotational of 5 suits to work, but in that dress, she began to understand how clothes could make someone feel pretty. She certainly did.

"I pretty too!" Annika exclaimed from the floor.

Hermione looked down at her daughter. "Yes, sweetheart, you look very pretty too with your shoes on."

Annika pouted and George laughed before scooping her up again. "Now that it's settled and we all look great, shall we go?"

Annika nodded. "Gramolly and cookies," she ordered.

Hermione threaded her hand through the crook in George's elbow, and with a crack, the three had disapparated to his parent's home.

Annika disappeared quickly into an upstairs room to play with her cousins, a cookie in each hand, and George had made a beeline for the beers and to chat with his brothers, while Hermione poured a glass of rose and went to find Ginny.

She found her in a corner with Fleur and Fleur's new baby. The baby was asleep in Fleur's arms, her tiny fingers clasped tightly around her aunt's little finger as Ginny marvelled at how tiny it was.

"Look at this little fist!" Ginny exclaimed to Hermione. "Can you believe how tiny it is? Do you remember when Annika's hand was this tiny?"

Hermione laughed. "I do. It feels like a million years ago. She didn't even need shoes then."

Ginny didn't fully understand but was too distracted with tiny fingers to ask.

Hermione wandered off, leaving her friend deep in a baby fever, and ended up seated between Harry and Bill as Arthur got a karaoke machine, his new favorite and very unfortunate gift from Hermione's parents for Christmas. She'd have to write her parents and tell them no singing toys, not for Annika or any of childlike adults.

After being subjected to a long medley of terribly off-key songs, surviving only with her steadfast bottle of rose, she was changing her mind. She might have to write her parents that they were terrible and forever more banned from giving gifts to the Weasley's. It was simply too dangerous and the family simply too tone deaf. Her head ached terribly from the music, and it was far too loud to talk to anyone, and she was developing a cramp and refused to stretch for fear of drawing attention to herself and getting pulled in for a song. Although, she didn't know why she was afraid to be embarrassed- clearly, no one else was.

She wished the Weasley's were normal people who could just get drunk and set off some pyrotechnics for the New Years. The dangerous mix of fire and alcohol was preferable to this slow miserable death.

She finally slipped outside when her bottle of rose ran empty. The cool air was bracing but not as frigid as in years past, and she was grateful for the brief reprieve. Outside, with the light wind, the obnoxious singing was moderately muffled. It was bearable.

It had been a good year, all in all. Annika had grown and no longer tried to eat sand. Her parents had been up to visit during the summer, because they missed her and wanted to escape the Australian winter. Her practice had been going well too. She had been building a reputation for herself, especially related to family law. She had a healthy number of regular clients and referrals and was able to afford to do pro-bono as work as well.

The biggest shock of her professional life was when Narcissa Malfoy had shown up unannounced and without an appointment and told Hermione she'd like to put her on retainer for a number of personal legal matters.

Hermione might have said no, if Narcissa had ever paused. She had simply waltzed in and sat down at Hermione's desk and proceeded as if everything were settled already and Hermione could hardly get a word in edgewise. And then once Narcissa was done speaking, Hermione couldn't very well have said no anyway.

She wanted to write Andromeda back into the family trust. Narcissa was the last remaining Black and it was her sole legal right to do so. She also wanted to leave the Black family fortune to Teddy. And she wanted to start a foundation for the protection of all magical creatures.

There were other things she wanted to do, but she led with those three, knowing that Hermione wouldn't say no after that. She had the mix of Pureblood haughtiness and Slytherin manipulation to execute the ploy easily and Hermione was stuck. Hermione had agreed and they had set up a standing weekly meeting to review Narcissa's requests and Hermione's progress.

George had been floored when Hermione had gone home and told him, and then utterly gobsmacked when she told him what Narcissa had wanted. He had laughed, but then given her a serious look. "If that's what she wants, that's good. But I don't like the idea of ex-Death Eaters cornering you in your office. Are you sure you're safe with her?"

Hermione rolled her eyes for show but was privately touched by his concern. "There's something else going on her, and I can't put my finger on it just yet, but I am perfectly capable of defending myself, with Narcissa or anyone else."

Nonetheless, he had installed an emergency alarm system in the building the next week, "as a building-wide precaution". He'd installed emergency panic buttons in her office, his, the main desk at the shop, and the basement. The number of them was only a vague ruse to imply he hadn't been solely worried for her safety, despite her reassurances.

She met with Narcissa, week after week, without incident. At their first meeting, Hermione had agreed to a short term trial retainer, and Narcissa had informed her that she expected the utmost discretion from her solicitors, especially given the way that the media still enjoyed lambasting her family across the front page. It was reasonable enough, but Hermione couldn't fully understand why discretion was required for the three requests they had agreed to work on. They were all unquestionably benevolent, and would become a matter of public record anyway. But at the end of each meeting, Narcissa would say something to the effect of "as always, your discretion is appreciated".

It was an enigma, and Hermione was good at solving puzzles.

To preserve her discretion, Narcissa had insisted on being the last client Hermione saw on Fridays. Hermione was still working half days on Fridays, and so would schedule herself case management time in the morning, Narcissa at 10:30, and then lock up after and go get Annika. They would make lunch "together" for George, which largely consisted of Hermione making sandwiches while Annika tried to tie her mother's shoelaces together, and then she'd pack up her case work and go home.

It had mostly worked, and they were nearly through the short term retainer period, when Narcissa had unexpectedly shown up in the middle of lunch. She had flooed in directly to the reception (living room) and George was on his feet in an instant, standing in front of Annika with his wand raised.

Narcissa, to her credit, hardly moved to blink. "I didn't mean to intrude, Ms. Granger, but upon returning home realized I left you with the original documents of which we had been discussing, rather than the copies, if I could please collect them now."

They were birth certificates, for Narcissa, Andromeda, Nymphadora, and Teddy. It amazed Hermione that Narcissa could speak so evasively with a wand pointed at her. The very epitome of a Slytherin.

"Who this, mummy?" Annika asked, peering around her father, who hadn't moved.

Hermione flushed as she got up. "Finish your lunch, George," she hissed. What she meant was "put your wand down" but "finish your lunch" neatly avoided the awkward elephant in the room of her daughter's father threatening her client.

"I'll get those for you right away," she said, crossing the reception into her office again. "My apologies for not noticing."

Narcissa hadn't moved from the fireplace when Hermione returned with the documents. Thankfully, George had put his wand down, but still clutched it in his fist at his side.

"Mummy, who this?" Annika repeated.

Hermione traded Narcissa originals for copies. "This is a lady I work with, Ann," she said finally. "Narcissa, this is George Weasley, and our daughter Annika." The pleasantries did nothing to dispel the tension in the room and Hermione thought it would be polite to offer Narcissa some tea but also couldn't bring herself to lengthen the awkward situation even further, even just to ask.

Annika moved, as if to greet this strange lady, and George scooped her up instead. Narcissa gave her a small wave and a smile. "Hello, Annika."

Annika was suddenly shy and hid her face in George's neck but extended her whole arm in a playful wave.

"Well, thank you, Hermione. I won't keep you from your lunch any longer."

With that, Narcissa disappeared once more through the floo.

Hermione turned to stare at George. "What was _that_" she asked, trying desperately to rein in her temper in front of Annika.

"I don't like her having access in and out of your office, especially with Annika here." George's tone brokered no room for argument and her temper flared.

"She is my _client_," Hermione rebutted. "She has been polite and never given me cause for alarm."

George snorted and grabbed Hermione's arm, his thumb landing in the middle of her scar. It was faint, but still legible in the right light, at the right angels, and he had kissed it in the heat of passion enough to know it was still there. "Was she _polite_ while her wretched sister did this? I'm sure she didn't have a hair out of place. She didn't alarm you then?"

Hermione yanked her arm back and pulled her sleeve down, very aware of Annika's spying eyes. "What did her sister do?" Annika asked.

"It doesn't matter. It was a long time ago, and she didn't do it, and she apologized for it anyway."

"What did she do, Daddy?" She asked, not satisfied with her mother's answer, the little brat.

"She and her husband and her sister and her son did a lot of bad things, including hurt your mummy, and now her husband is in Azkaban and your mummy sees no problem in working with her."

"But she apologized?" Annika puzzled, because they had taught her too well about forgiving people for mistakes and she had chosen a wholly inconvenient time to remember their life lessons.

"She did," Hermione insisted.

"There are some things you can't just apologize for," George countered, his stare boring into Hermione and she flinched.

"Like what?" Annika asked naively.

"Nevermind that, darling. Why don't we go home so your daddy can finish his lunch and go back to work?" Even as she said it, she was moving to the counter to scoop Annika's things into a bag.

George didn't say anything as she hastily got ready to go, and Annika looked between her parents with confusion. They didn't fight much, and certainly not in front of her, and she didn't know what to make of it.

When Hermione had the bag on one shoulder she grabbed her daughter's hand and tugged her to the door. "Say goodbye!" Hermione chirped with a false cheer.

"Bye, daddy!" Annika said obediently.

Halfway to the door, George reached out suddenly and grabbed Hermione's arm again, his hand grabbed around her scar once more. "We'll talk about this more later. I don't want that woman here with Annika."

Hermione pulled her arm away and refused to acknowledge his threat. "Goodbye, George."

She pulled Annika out the door and down the street to the market in dire need of a drink.

They did all their usual afternoon habits, getting groceries for dinner, and playing in the park, and Hermione watched the clock with dread all the while.

George got home early, as she was still cooking. She listened from the kitchen as he put on a video for Annika in the living room and then came to join her.

He had not calmed down at all over the course of the afternoon and she could feel the tension in his body from across the kitchen. She ignored it and continued chopping her vegetables, her back to the door of the kitchen.

"I think it's time you found a new office." He said finally.

She dropped the knife and spun on her heel.

"_What?" _

He continued with a deliberate calmness. "I can't dictate your practice, but it's my building, and I don't want her there, and anyway, the business is still expanding, and I'd like to convert the downstairs office into more shop space, and move up into the upstairs office. Your practice is growing too, and you probably need a space that doesn't have a multi-function reception-conference-room-kitchenette-play space."

She was speechless. It did make sense. They were both already running out of space. But fuck. Fuck.

She didn't acknowledge it. "I understand your reservations," she started.

George's careful calmness broke then. "My 'reservations'?" He mimicked. "Yeah, I have some 'reservations' about the Death Eaters you work with."

"She is the _only _one," she snapped. "And only on a trial basis, and only because she is working out things with Andromeda. I don't know why you don't trust my judgment and why you think I'd put myself, much less Annika, at any risk."

He took a play from her book and refused to acknowledge her counter. "You can take your time looking for a new office to lease," he said, and then turned and left.

She thought he was just in the sitting room, but when she came to get Annika for dinner, she found he had disappeared, without a mention or a note. She and Annika ate dinner in front of the telly, and then Hermione gave her a bath and put her to bed by herself. She stayed up late into the night reading in bed and never heard him come home.

There was a nervous voice in the back of her head, reminding her of all the times when he left in the middle of the night after they had shagged, when she hadn't really meant anything to him, and then when he had disappeared after she told him he was pregnant.

He hadn't disappeared on her since then, and it was deeply unsettling. The bubble of their weird domestic bliss had suddenly popped and she wasn't prepared for how cold it felt in the aftershocks.

He was back in the morning and making Annika waffles when she got up, and never mentioned having left the night before.

She found a new office not long after. He had been triggered by his anger, but ultimately he was right. Her new office had space for a proper reception, office, file system, and small conference room. It wasn't far from George's, and he had quickly turned her office into a two room office and hired a new partner. He had never mentioned Narcissa Malfoy again, and when Narcissa asked to extend their retainer, Hermione had agreed partially out of spite.

"If you don't mind my asking, though, Mrs. Malfoy, why do you want to retain me? I would imagine you already had a solicitor with far more tenure."

Narcissa smiled, her thin, polite, practiced vague smile. "You have a beautiful little girl," she said, tipping her head in the direction of Annika's photo on her desk.

Ice ran down Hermione's back and her hand flinched reflexively around her wand. If this had anything to do with Annika, was any sort of blackmail or threat, she was sure George would help her hide the body before telling her that he had told her so.

As if oblivious to her solicitor's murderous thoughts, Narcissa continued. "You may not have tenure, but you are bright and hard-working, and you're a mother. My family's solicitor was a friend of my husband's and worked for my husband first, and our family second. I thought perhaps, mother-to-mother, I could find a competent ally in you."

Hermione was flummoxed and nearly dropped her wand under her desk. "I appreciate your confidence in me," she said after a long pause.

Narcissa smiled again, and this smile had a warmth that reached her eyes. "I appreciate your trust," she replied. "And I am grateful for your help."

It was odd. So very very odd. Narcissa had apologized to her years ago and she had accepted, somewhat, with the logical part of her brain that rationalized the situation Narcissa had been put in, by her parents and then her husband and sister, and tied in with the constant threat of what could happen to her son. But. Still. Andromeda had the same parents and had taken a different path, and Hermione was sure that if George got barmy and murderous, she would take Annika and disappear without a trace.

But Narcissa had shown a new side to Hermione, with her parents and sister dead, and her husband in Azkaban for life, and it had been surprisingly cathartic for Hermione. She was kind of Hermione's favorite, weirdest client.

It had been five months now, and three since moving her office. With her income secure, and Annika a little older, Hermione knew it likely made since for her to find a place of her own in the coming year. Moving into his home and his office had felt natural although it had happened fast, but moving out felt odd, unnatural to her, even though she knew it was logical and was happening in phases.

They very subject of her ponderings joined her on the back deck. His coat had been pulled on haphazardly in his inebriated state, and he had a drink in each hand.

"Hey," he said lazily as he handed her another glass of wine. She shouldn't, but she did.

"Hey," she replied. The last she had seen him, he was doing shots with his brothers, but he didn't yet look terribly drunk.

"Are you hiding from the music?" He asked.

She nodded. "And the impending mortification. "You?" She asked.

He nodded in solidarity. "The same. It was hot and loud. Saw you disappear and thought I would join you. We haven't talked in a while."

She laughed. "George, I see you literally every day."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Yeah, but it hasn't been the same since you moved your office. We both needed the space, but I miss you. It was nice having you so close."

She smiled. "I know. I miss our Friday lunches. But it was good you were able to bring in a new partner. It seems like you've been able to get away from the office a little more.

"When you run a joke shop, the jokes run you," he quipped.

She wrinkled her nose. "Not your best line."

He winked. "I'll work on it," he said, and took a sip of beer.

While he drank, she braced herself with a deep breath of cold air. She hadn't been planning on having this conversation tonight, had been avoiding it actually, but she was tipsy enough to brave it, and it seemed timely.

"I was thinking, actually, that it probably makes sense for me to find my own place this year," she said. "The practice is doing well and Annika isn't a baby anymore, and we had originally said this would be temporary, so now seems like a good time."

It was nearly imperceptible but she saw his jaw clenched, although he nodded. "I would never push you out, and I'm going to miss you, but if you think it's time, I can be ok with that. I was thinking I might try to start dating again anyway…." he scrubbed a hand across his scruffy chin sheepishly.

_Of course_. It struck her like lightning what a fool she had been, thinking only about _her_ timing. _Of course_ George would want to do date. She suspected he hadn't been wholly celibate since Annika was born, and had probably had the occasionally one-night stand, but no one he had mentioned, no one he had brought home, because _of course_ what was more of a cock block than having your ex-fling-baby-mama living in your house?

She couldn't think of what to say to that. Nothing serious. She was too good at deflecting on the tricky emotional things. "You don't think your dates will want to watch Dora the Explorer with Annika on your movie dates?" She asked innocently.

He laughed. "I've heard most girls prefer dinner dates, actually. Strangely enough."

She nodded. "Very odd. They are really missing out. They could be learning bad pronunciations of simple, useless spanish phrases."

He laughed again. "La MO-CHIIII-LLLA!" He mocked. "Also, what villain could ever be stopped by a child with a rabid monkey just telling him to stop?"

"But really- like, if you said, "hey Voldemort, no killing" three times, would he have really just said "oh, man!" and walked away?"

The force of his laugh had him choking on his beer.

"Fuck, Granger. I'll never be able to watch Dora with her again without thinking about dead villains with daddy issues."

Hermione laughed and took a sip of her own drink.

His expression sobered after a moment, and she could tell there was something on the tip of his tongue, and she was torn between waiting and not wanting to hear any more serious things tonight.

"By the way-"he started, and paused. "I - what you said in the kitchen, after we had the fight about Narcissa Malfoy- I'm sorry."

They hadn't ever discussed that argument, even as they were cleaning out her office above his shop.

She shook her head. "No, I -"

"No, you were right. I should trust you. I _do _trust you. I know you're not reckless, and I know you would never do anything to put Annika in danger. I shouldn't have accused you. I … I just… they hurt you, Hermione."

She nodded slowly. "I know, George. But I forgave them a long time ago. I'm trying not to hold on to that pain. And working with her now has been cathartic, actually."

He was struggling for his words and she knew the alcohol made it difficult, but was also the only reason he was able to broach the topic because otherwise, he was too good at deflecting on the tricky emotional things. It was a shared vice that made days easier and years harder, probably, because she at least had been choking on the residual unease of that argument for months now, unable to say anything.

"It's just - look. You're my friend, my roommate, my daughter's mum. You mean a lot to me. You have for a long time. And I can't bear the thought of anyone hurting you, ever. Even if you've already forgiven them."

She felt a prickling of tears in the corners of her eyes at his admission, and she didn't know what to say, but she put down her wine and fell against him in a hug. His arms came up around her only a moment later, holding her tight, her head tucked neatly under his chin.

"Whatever happens with us, you and Annika and I, we will always be a family," he promised.

"I know, Georgie," she whispered.

Inside, she vaguely heard the music stop, and, aided by the karoake machine, the Wealseys inside began to scream their countdown, but George held on, and she burrowed in deeper to the woodsy scent of his aftershave, and while surrounded by his body heat, she suddenly realized how cold she was.

"10!"

"9!"

"8!"

"7!"

"6!"

"5!"

"4!"

"3!"

"2!"

At one, George tipped his head forward and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin, and even after, took a long moment before letting go.


	6. Year Six

_Author's Note:_ My holidays were busier than expected, so although everything was written I haven't had as much time to edit and post as expected. Happy New Year's Eve's Eve though and enjoy this extra long chapter!

* * *

Hermione struggled with her dress and nearly cursed the blasted zipper. She didn't want to go to the wretched New Year's Party. She didn't want to get dressed up. She was very much inclined to curl up on her couch in her PJs with a bottle of wine and a good book.

But no. Her best friend / worst client ever was throwing a grand opening of their terrible-inheritance-house-turned-event-center. She had worked on the legal paperwork for them to operate their business, and reviewed their contracts with caterers, and the employment contracts for their event staff. They had changed their minds constantly and were late to every appointment and were always late returning forms with their signatures. At one point, she contemplated that Annika already had enough aunts and uncles.

She would be perfectly happy to never step another foot in the wretched place, but Ginny had insisted and cajoled and engaged in some light blackmail and Hermione was still bad at saying no.

Hermione then reconsidered when Ginny made her go shopping for a dress with her, vetoed all her favorite choices, and forced her into this strappy red monstrosity with an impossible zipper.

"I need to live vicariously through you now," Ginny had insisted, as if Ginny wasn't happily living out her baby fever dream. The harpy was having her cake and eating it too, using her pregnancy as an excuse to bully Hermione into acting out, but Hermione had agreed nonetheless.

Hermione tugged at the zipper of her horrid dress and finally gave up and went to find her copy of A Modern Witch's Spellbook for Being Single and Sexy. Ginny had given it to her with some absurd lingerie to "get out there" and while she had to transfigure the cover so Annika wouldn't see the witch salaciously winking on the cover, it actually had some practical spells. She was certain there would be one for zipping up a dress (there were also spells for preventing pregnancy, detecting pregnancy, and determining paternity. She wouldn't be needing that part of the book.) There was a small, traitorous voice in the back of her mind that told her George could have taken care of her zip, if she had stayed.

She had moved out in April and it hadn't been an easy transition. She missed him, even now, eight months later. She had known it would be different, but she didn't realize nearly the extent of it.

It was strange, splitting their time with Annika's, and talking about "his night" with Annika or "her night" with Annika, as if Annika were a thing and not their daughter.

Moving had been terrible. She had found a place, a small cottage near the home Harry and Ginny had bought. They had done their best to explain to Annika what was happening, and to tell her that George's house was still her home too, and that they both loved her very much. They had let her choose the color of her bedroom walls and surprised her with a unicorn mural on her wall, and she had seemed excited on moving day.

But at one am, Hermione had found herself holding her daughter, who was crying uncontrollably. She had tried everything she could think of to soothe her, but once Annika had cried so hard she vomitted, Hermione gave up and flooed them back to George's.

George's dad-panic-instincts had kicked in the moment they arrived, and he was out of bed in and instant.

"What's wrong?" He said, alert despite having been deep asleep a moment before.

He took in the sight of them in his hearth, and despite Annika's wails, couldn't see anything physically wrong with them.

"I'm sorry," Hermione replied, frazzled. "I think she's just homesick, but I didn't know what to do."

He relaxed and his panic subsided some. He moved to pick Annika up from Hermione but Hermione interjected-"careful, she's made herself sick."

But Annika had realized where she was now and had twisted in her mother's arms and was reaching for him. "Daddy," she cried as her tears subsided, and George picked her up despite her state and held her close. She buried her face into the junction of his neck and shoulder and he rubbed circles on her back.

"Shh, Annie, it's ok," he whispered. "You're ok. We've got you." his hand on her back paused only to search for Hermione's shoulder and pull her in closer, and Hermione hugged him, her head on his other shoulder with their daughter in between them.

"Shhhh, Annie, shhh," George murmured, over and over again, as he held them both close and her tears slowly petered out.

"I missed you," Annika whispered, reverting back to her baby voice, and it nearly broke Hermione's heart.

"I'm right here," he promised softly. "Your mum and I both. Always. Ok?"

Annika bobbed her head. "Ok."

He pulled away slowly. "No let's get you cleaned up."

He looked up at Hermione, who caught his eye. "I'll give her a bath here, and you can go home and shower, and we'll meet you back there?" He said.

Hermione nodded. "Thank you," she replied.

"Of course." He gave her shoulder a light squeeze as he stepped away. "We'll see you soon."

She took a quick step forward before he could move too far, though, and kissed the back of Annika's shoulder. "Love you, Annie," she murmured. "See you soon."

Then she disappeared back into the floo. She levitated Annika's comforter into the wash basket before shucking her own clothes as well and hopping into the shower.

She was out again and starting the wash when George flooed back in, he and Annika both in clean clothes.

It was nearly two am and she was exhausted. "Alright, darling, let's get you to bed," she said softly.

"Mummy can I sleep in your room?" Annika whined.

Hermione was about to tell her that she could, would have given her anything just to go to bed herself, when George chimed in. "What's wrong with your room, Annie?"

Annika's lip trembled. "I don't like it," she insisted, and Hermione panicked at the promise of more tears in her daughter's tiny, tense face.

"But you picked the color yourself!" George cajoled. "It's beautiful! And it has unicorns!"

Annika could not dispute these facts but still looked unsure. "Mummy and I will tuck you in together, and you'll see," he promised.

Hermione enlarged the bed, and George reached for a bedtime story. George was sat up on one side of the bed, with Annika curled up with her head on his thigh, and Hermione couldn't help but to nestle down beside her daughter, her forehead against George's hip and her arm slung over Annika's to rest on his knee, and drift off as George read about Babbity Rabbitty.

There was something she had read once, in a parenting book somewhere, about not giving in to your child's tantrums, and letting them self-soothe to sleep. Hermione just added it to the tally of ways she was apparently a terrible mum and closed her eyes.

Living apart had never again been that terrible, but at the same time, it had somehow never gotten much easier either. There was a stilted awkwardness when she invited him to have dinner with them at her house, or to come watch a movie, because invitations had never been needed for such things before, they had just happened. Worse was when he invited her over for dinner, and she found herself halfway a stranger in her former home (and yet somehow still doing the cooking for him).

She was still not yet not being grateful to him. He was a better father than she could have ever imagined, and much as it amused her, her jokester friend getting serious and going into "dad-mode", it gave her funny feelings in her belly, also, to watch him with their daughter. He was sweet, and kind, and patient, and firm with their little girl. In Ginny's words, for lack of a better term, it made her "ovary-act".

But her cottage was slowly becoming a home. Annika had never cried herself sick again, and they had begun settling in. On a nice day, they could walk over to the Potter's, and Ginny was always game to babysit her favorite niece. They were figuring it out. Slowly.

Even though they had talked about it, it had still come to a shock to her when he had begun dating in May. It hadn't helped much that he hadn't even told her. She had only found out because she had been walking down Diagon Alley with Ginny and suddenly spotted a woman she didn't know holding her daughter at the ice cream counter of Fortescue's.

She was moving before she could register it, leaving a confused Ginny trailing in her wake.

"Excuse me" Hermione had said to the woman brusquely. "Who are you, and why are you holding my daughter?"

The woman turned, and Hermione was pulling Annika out of her arms before she could respond. Obediently, Annika reached out her arms for her mother and wrapped her legs around her mother's waist.

"Hello, mummy!" Annika chirped. "We is getting ice cream!" She exclaimed, oblivious to the tension in her mother's jaw.

The woman flushed and began to stammer an apology as Ginny caught up to them and looked at the scene with confusion.

"Who're you?" She asked just as bluntly.

"I'm sorry - I'm Isabelle- I've been seeing George?" She sputtered, half statements and half nervous questions. "He's here, he just ducked into the bathroom," she explained. "Sorry- you must be Hermione? Annika's mum? And Ginny, his sister? Um - nice to - meet you." She was looking at Hermione with vague shock and wide eyes.

"Nice to meet you as well," Ginny said, finally, when Hermione didn't say anything, although her tone didn't match her words.

"George should be right back," Isabelle said nervously, as if to fill the awkward silence.

As if on cue, George emerged from the bathroom and paused at the sight of them and Hermione looked at him with rage in her eyes.

Shite. He had found there was something especially terrifying in the anger of a woman who could shoot daggers with her eyes while holding her child warmly in her arms. It was like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde together at once and he had half a mind to run. He knew instantly what had happened, that Hermione had found her daughter alone with a stranger, and that he could not take back the moment of panic she would have felt at the the sight.

Ginny intervened. "Annika, why don't you pick out your ice cream, and then your mummy and I will take you to the park," she said cheerily, as if it were a fun suggestion, and not like she was telling all the adults that was how they would proceed _or else._

"I want chocolate!" Annika exclaimed, nonplussed. Hermione handed her over to Ginny, who took her over a few steps to the register. While Annika was thus distracted, Hermione turned to George. "You can pick her up at my house later and we can talk then," she told him, although her tone said "_you can pick her up later and I'll yell at you then". _

"Hermione-"

"We're ready!" Ginny interjected, holding Annika's hand in one of her hands, and the ice cream in her other. "Say goodbye to your daddy and Isabelle, Annika!"

"Goodbye!" Annika said obediently.

"See you later!" Ginny added.

Hermione just waved to them before taking her daughter's other hand and pulling the trio out of the shop.

True to her unspoken promise, she had yelled at him when he arrived at her house an hour and a half later. She was waiting on her porch with tea and a book while he could hear Ginny and Annika watching a movie inside.

"Do you have any idea what it felt like to see some woman I had never met before holding my daughter?" She asked without preamble.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I know how it must have felt."

She looked at him with disgust despite his apology. "How you would have felt, if you had walked into the ice cream shop and seen some strange man holding Annika?"

"I know, Hermione," he insisted. "_I'm sorry_. Look, it won't happen again, ok?"

"We need to set some ground rules," she told him. "Starting with, we have to introduce each other to our dates before we introduce them to Annika."

His jaw clenched. She hadn't yet dated yet, but he didn't much like the reminder that she could, hypocrite that he was. "That's fair," he ground out.

"And we each get veto power on introductions to Annika," she added.

That reached the end of his contrition. "I would expect we each have good judgment on who we introduce to our daughter, Hermione," he retorted her, reminding her that although he had fucked up most recently, trust was a two-way street.

"Then we'll never have to use veto power, then, will we?" She snapped back and kept going. "The last thing I was thinking - no sleepovers while Annika is at home. At least not until she's a little older. We should be accessible if she has a nightmare or gets sick in the middle of the night."

That was reasonable but he didn't like her tone. He had made one mistake and she was actually like he had _no _judgement at all anymore, like he hadn't spent the last three years being more-or-less a good dad . "Fine," he ground out. "Is that all?"

She nodded. "We can review if there are any other incidents, but yes, I think that covers it."

He rolled his eyes at her swotty attitude and went inside without another word to her.

He had never mentioned her again, and Hermione assumed that the Ice-Cream Incident was too much for his Ill-Fated Isabelle.

* * *

In late July, she had finally solved the mystery of what Narcissa Malfoy was really after. She had been working for her for almost a year already when Narcissa brought in a marriage contract.

"This has been the standard Malfoy prenuptial agreement for decades," Narcissa explained. "With Draco ostensibly getting married in the next few years, I thought it was time to reform it. For example, there is a troublesome clause about the proper way to dispose of an unfaithful wife, and I am not sure it is legal."

Hermione was surprised but knew she shouldn't be. Of course the Malfoys had an antiquated marriage contract. "That's sensible," she told her client. "And to that particular concern - for your reference, a marriage contract can legally supersede any civil statute, but no criminal ones. I am almost certain based on your explanation that the clause in question would be voided."

Narcissa nodded with satisfaction. "Good. I hoped as much. And all the more sure that the contract needs to be revised to the current legal standards."

Hermione nodded as she skimmed the document - really, a small tome. "There's been a lot of changes in criminal statutes following the war," she informed Narcissa. "We can modernize the civil clauses and bring the criminal clauses within the legal boundary. However, based on the size of the document, it will take some time to review. Were there any particular modernizations you had in mind?"

Narcissa had a written list she gave to Hermione. "My priorities in general are to require, from both parties, a higher duty of care to children of the union, even if they are squibs." She made a face of disgust, and it was one of the few times Hermione had ever seen her express an emotion. She stopped immediately. "The Malfoys have quite inhumane views of squibs," she clarified no further but Hermione could imagine for herself.

"I'd also like to evaluate the possibility of divorce for extreme cases," she added. "Prolonged adultery, abuse, abandonment, and the like. My husband's former solicitor was clear to me upon our union that the current contract allowed no exceptions. I'd like to be a little more reasonable."

Hermione nodded. They reviewed a few more things before Hermione took the documents and promised an update in a fortnight.

_Prolonged adultery, abuse, abandonment, and the like. _

_The like. _

Halfway through her research the following week, it struck Hermione what Narcissa was really after. Allegedly, she had come to enquire for a marriage contract revisal for Draco, but why? As far as Hermione knew, he wasn't dating anyone seriously. The papers still liked to track his activity, and she was relatively sure she would know if he was dating, whether or not she intended to know. Narcissa could be working on an arranged marriage - but there were legal documents associated with that type of betrothal as well, and she hadn't asked Hermione to help with those. She could have been working with another lawyer, but Hermione doubted it, after the way Narcissa had described her family's solicitor.

_The possibility of divorce in extreme cases_.

Extreme cases, like your husband being a convicted felon, serving a lifetime in Azkaban?

Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself. Perhaps she was reading too much into things. But perhaps Narcissa was seeking a divorce.

She began to look into the document to see if it was as ironclad as the lawyer had told Narcissa (it was certainly as terrible as Narcissa had told Hermione, and she thanked her lucky stars again that it had been George she had been so ill-advised with all those years ago).

When Narcissa sat down the following week, Hermione walked her through her proposed changes in the clauses that expressly prohibited divorce, and also some additional clauses she suggested including, and reviewed the protections they would afford. Narcissa seemed amenable but vaguely indifferent, and Hermione took the plunge.

"I also wanted you to know that your solicitor was likely right at the time, but that the terms of the current contract are no longer ironclad." Narcissa looked up with interested surprise, and Hermione continued. "I mentioned that there has been a lot of post-War tort reform, and that has included some protections and rights for victims of violent crime, and some special clauses for victims of violent crime committed by their own families. Because it is part of the criminal statute, it would supercede any contrary stipulation in the contract. For example, if Draco were to marry someone terrible who was convicted of a violent crime against their family - Draco could legally divorce her, and the proceedings would be one-sided, since she would be in Azkaban. Also, if his future wife were to commit a violent crime against others, he could still seek a divorce if her sentencing were greater than ten years. Because it's written in the penal code as a retribution against the guilty party, and with the other rights they lose upon conviction, it supersedes the marriage contract."

Narcissa's eyes glittered and Hermione knew she had guessed correctly. "As your solicitor, I feel it is also my duty to inform you that all current legal codes apply, although anyone bound on the former Malfoy Contract would have been married on it's archaic terms."

Narcissa smiled a rare, real, smile, which disappeared quickly and she furrowed her brow, deep in thought. "As always, I appreciate your thoroughness, Ms. Granger," she said. "Now, what have you found regarding the protection of children and the other matters we discussed?"

* * *

"So, I finally figured out why Narcissa Mafloy has been coming to me," she told George when he came to dinner that night.

He only raised his eyebrows. She knew he still didn't like that she worked for Narcissa, but he had let the issue drop, and his jaw no longer clenched when the name came up. "Oh?" He asked casually.

"Mhhmm-hhmm." She hummed as she went back to stirring her spaghetti sauce.

There was a long pause. "So…. are you going to tell me?" He asked, waiting.

She shook her head. "No," she retorted impishly. "Client confidentiality."

He laughed and snapped a dish towel at her waist. "Tease," he accused.

She giggled despite herself. "It's really good, too," she goaded. "I'll tell you in a few months when it's public."

His fingers danced into her sides and he tickled her quickly. "You abominable swot," he rebuked. "I tell you everything!"

She clucked her tongue at him. "That is because _you _do not have client confidentiality."

He laughed. "Fine then- what can you tell me?"

She thought about that a moment while she stirred. "It is surprising, and may make you almost like her."

"That big?" He asked.

"That big." She confirmed.

He laughed and she finished cooking. "Could you have Annika wash her hands while I finish up? It'll be ready in a minute."

He disappeared and she hummed to herself while straining the pasta and setting out plates. When they sat down at her table, the three of them, eating her extremely mediocre pasta together, her house finally felt a little more like home.

* * *

Hermione used the zip charm, and also a few other suggested for "a big night out"- with a squish and flick her shoes were instantly more comfortable, to fix the errant nail polish on her finger, shave a few stray hairs that had missed her razor in the shower somehow. Half of the book was actually very helpful. Not that she would ever tell Ginny.

She procrastinated a bit, and skimmed through the pages to see if there was anything else she might need. When she got to the section on "get it, girl! How to spell yourself to better sex" she gave up and headed to the party.

She was late, and the party was already in full swing by the time she arrived.

"You look _amazing_" Ginny squealed, pulling her tight when they met in the entry hall. "I told you that you were sexy under all your mom sweaters! Have a drink!"

Hermione gave her friend A Look. "Hey, give it five years and you'll have mom sweaters of your own too."

Ginny gave her A Look right back. "I will _not." _She gave her friend a little shove. "No go drink and have fun and try to get caught by someone handsome under the mistletoe! I know mum has Annika for the night - you can _have some fun_," Ginny added with a salacious wink.

Hermione couldn't help but to grimace. "Gin, I haven't _had some fun_ since I found out I was pregnant. Tonight is not the night. Don't push it."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Hermione that was four years ago," she gasped and Hermione rolled her eyes at the dramatics.

"Yeah, well - then I had a baby, and nothing kills libido like the wailing monster that was my child, and then it's not exactly like wizards are lining up to date a single mum."

"But George?" Ginny puzzled and Hermione flushed.

"Nothing changed from when I told you that first New Year's. We aren't together. We never really were."

Ginny looked positively perplexed. "I know he was dating recently, although I haven't really heard over anyone after the Ill-Fated Isabelle of the Ice-Cream Incident - but I had assumed before that- I mean you lived together those years! Nothing ever happened then?"

Hermione shook her head. "Nothing ever happened then. We were taking care of our daughter together."

Ginny's mouth fluttered open and shut like a guppy and Hermione ached to disappear into the crowd and away from that particular conversation. "But - when we were cleaning out this year - I found your knickers in the attic."

Hermione's mortification was nearly palpable. "I don't know what to tell you, Gin - they must have been left their years ago."

Ginny looked at her with confusion that slowly transitioned into a strong resolve and Hermione worried at that look as Ginny put her hands on Hermione's cheeks and pulled her close, looking her friend dead in the eyes with a serious expression. "Hermione Granger, you elusive, beautiful, talented, rule-breaking space unicorn, I will find you love."

_Fuck_.

Hermione quickly left her friend "to visit the ladies" and spent the rest of her night hiding from Ginny and her misguided resolutions. Hermione didn't need love, she just needed a drink.

It really was a huge party. The ballroom was packed and the music was loud, and George had made some impressive modifications to his indoor fireworks so that they exploded endless in the ballroom, showering the room in glittering sparks that were silent and heatless. The dining table had a feast on par with any Hogwarts holiday feast, and a full bar in the library was serving an impressive array of cocktails. The kitchen and storeroom in the basement had been warded off except for staff, and the upstairs bedrooms had been converted into a few meeting rooms, a "recovery room" (as Ginny had optimistically called it), the onsite office, and a small nursery. They were fit to hold weddings, funerals, private parties, and charity events.

Working with Ginny on the project had been nightmarish, but Hermione had learned a surprising amount about the classism of the wizarding world she hadn't known already. First and foremost, that it was only houses like these, the homes of old, rich, pureblood families, that had ballrooms and the like to host such event. The wizarding world was small enough that there was not a large rental venue market; only a few hotels and restaurants had rental spaces, and none on the same scale. Rich pureblood families hosted their events at their homes, cementing their social network around them, while sometimes hosting weddings for family friends as well, but for families like the Weasleys, backyards and rent-a-tents were the only options. The rise of Voldemort and blood supremacy had effectively shut down celebrations for everyone else, weakening social networks over time. And since only pureblood's could host large-scale charity events, philanthropic donations were no more egalitarian.

Hermione had been dubious about Ginny's project when they had started, but had grown supportive of the business model (despite Ginny's antics in contractual review) the more she learned, and Ginny's idea had been a success almost as soon as they launched - this was there soft grand opening event, and they had given themselves a month afternoon before accepting any events to tweak things - but they were booked out every weekend in February and March already, and had a spattering of booking going into the next year and a half.

The New Year's party was one part party, but several parts a showcase of all the amenities and options they had to offer. As such, Harry and Ginny had invited all their friends and family, but also nearly half the wizarding world. The idea had made sense when they were first planning it, but seemed unnecessary once their calendar had filled anyway, but they had gone ahead with it anyway, and cajoled Hermione into coming.

She was at the bar in the library (_not _the proper use of a library if you asked her, even though they had taken out all the important books and replaced them with props for "decor") reviewing the drink menu (no drink promised to get her shit-faced enough to forget her terrible scheming friends so she had to guess at which would do the trick) when a voice behind her caught her off-guard.

"So, Granger, I hear it's your fault I'm now a pitiable child of divorce."

Draco.

Her hand fell into her pocket- the one practical thing about her stupid dress- and squeezed her wand as she spun on her heel. She realized the moment she looked at him, though, that his tone didn't match his expression - he was only teasing, apparently.

He smirked at her. "Relax, Granger. I'm only kidding. I'm happy to be a child of divorce. My father is a monster. This is the best thing to happen to my mother in twenty-odd years. Thank you."

She was startled at his admission, and he handed her a drink. "This is what you're looking for, by the way. Something to take the edge off that won't give you a terrible hangover tomorrow."

"Thank you," she stammered, half a question, her manners catching up to her. "What brings you here, anyway?" Hoping it came off as casual and not too interrogative.

"My mum was invited. She is hosting several charity events here this year. Didn't want to use the manor, for obvious reasons. She isn't one for New Year's parties anymore but sent me to report back."

"They do a great job," Hermione said, feeling defensive of her friend and worst client.

He was nonplussed, and kept going. "Of course they do. I think it was more of an excuse to get me out of the house, if anything," he admitted. "My mother is quite enamored with you, by the way. Keeps going on and on about your brilliance and impeccable decorum. I daresay she'd trade me for you in a heartbeat.'

Hermione was not prepared for this turn of events, wasn't even sure what he was doing at the party. "Well, she is my best client," she finally said. "She's always punctual and well prepared."

He laughed. "And scary," he added.

She couldn't help but to nod. It was the drink. "Yes, that too." She took another sip.

"She's been hinting for ages that I should ask you out."

Hermione nearly choked on her sip. "_What?" _This whole conversation had her head spinning. "Is that what you're doing? Is this how one asks out a girl these days, by leading with his mother's blessing? Or is this part of the Pureblood courting rigamarole?"

He laughed at her again and she realized that she had known him for years and never seemed him laugh in this joyous way. "Relax, Granger, you're not my type."

His casual dismissal irked her despite herself. "Why? Because I'm a mudblooded single mum?"

He rolled her eyes at her. "For the record, I haven't cared about that blood rot since adolescence. You're just as good or better than anyone else in my book. You bested my father and helped my mother, for one. And also - my mother met your daughter once and has been smitten ever since, despite your baby daddy threatening her the whole time. I can't figure out if she's hoping your daughter will marry Teddy one day or become her step-granddaughter."

It was a lot of unexpected information and Hermione realized that the Draco in front of her was one she had never met before. "Well… why not then?" She asked, conveniently avoiding the overwhelming information in his rebuke, because she was as good at avoiding difficult things as ever.

He leaned closer to her and she allowed a lapse in judge for him to get near enough to whisper in her ear. "Just because I'm drunk and your confusion is amusing and you'll find out soon enough anyway, I'll tell you: you're not my type because you are most definitely female."

She pulled her head up and nearly headbutted his nose. "_What?" _

His eyes glittered with drunken mirth. "Careful, Granger- client confidentiality."

"You aren't my client," she said dumbly, knowing at least that much while she still tried to right the rest of the world around her.

He shrugged. "I may be visiting you this week. The Malfoy nuptial contract will need further revising, and I know you're the best."

The turn of events had left her shocked and she realized her glass was curiously empty as she struggled for a fortifying sip. Somehow, he replaced it with a full glass and leaned in once more.

"Seeya soon, Granger," he said, and kissed her cheek before she left.

She stood still, rooted in her spot, after he had made his departure, too shocked even to try to drink further. She was still standing there when George stalked up to her a moment later.

"_Veto_," he hissed. "Fuck, Hermione - veto, veto, _veto_."

It took her a long moment to realize what he meant, and then she felt a hot flush shoot down her spine and heat her face. "That wasn't - he isn't- I'm not dating him," she finally stammered. "He wants to be my client, and honestly, I think he was making fun of me, a little."

This explanation did not do anything for George's anger. "Your client? Narcissa was bad enough and I've barely warmed to her but you're going to do work for _Draco_ now too? Where's the line, Dolohov?"

He had seen the scar Dolohov had left on her, years ago, a lifetime ago. Had kissed her tears when she told him what had happened, and admitted her secret insecurities about how it marred her body, and then he had kissed the scar itself and slowly melted those insecurities away.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I would not work for Dolohov. I don't even know if I'll work for Draco. But it's my practice."

He was going to rebut and she could tell it was going to be ugly, drunk and stubborn as they both were, when a tall blond threw herself into George's arms. "Georgie!" She cried. "I thought I had lost you in the crowd. Did you get me a drink?"

George turned to her, his attention momentarily averted. "Not yet, love. I wanted to introduce you to Hermione, actually."

The blond suddenly turned to face Hermione as if just realizing she were there. "Hermione!" She bubbled. "So lovely to meet you!"

George's smile was forced and for the benefit of the blond on his arm, Hermione could tell. They were going to ignore the argument they had been on the brink of having. "Hermione, this is my girlfriend Veronica."

Five years of cotillion in primary school compelled Hermione to extend her hand despite her deep desire to do otherwise. "Nice to meet you, Veronica," she said primly.

She promptly found herself assaulted with a hug. She wasn't prepared and accidentally got a mouthful of hair.

"I've been so excited to meet you!" Veronica tittered. "Georgie told me so much and of course I had read about you and I remember you a tiny bit from Hogwarts, but we only overlapped by a year, but you always seemed _so _smart and I just know we'll be good friends!"

_Like hell we will,_ a dark voice whispered in the back of her head. The voice sounded suspiciously like rum.

"Veronica and I were thinking we would pick up Annika from mum's in the morning and take her out for pancakes," George said.

"I can't wait to meet her!" Veronica squealed.

_Over my dead body_, Hermione thought.

"Sure," Hermione said. "But don't forget I'm taking her to my parent's the day after - don't keep her too long so I can get her packed up and to bed at a good time since it will be an early morning."

"Oh, goodie!" Veronica chirped.

There was a part of Hermione that was an avid feminist, that would voice support for woman in all walks of life, whoever they were, whatever choices they made. And then there was the part of Hermione that was having to talk to Veronica.

"Well, that's settled!" George said with false cheer. "We'll get a drink and get back to the dance floor - but we'll see you tomorrow afternoon, Hermione! Happy New Year!"

As they moved to the bar, Hermione hightailed it out of the room, lest she be caught in another surprising conversation she wasn't prepared for. Ginny's New Year's party was supposed to be about drinking and debauchery - it was not supposed to be this emotionally exhausting. Hermione wondered how long she would have to make an appearance before being able to disappear.

She loitered for a bit in the upstairs hall and then abused her security clearance to hide in the office for a bit and "fix her hair" despite the fact that the charm's in Ginny's cursed book were holding up surprisingly well. She then let herself slip down the back stairs, rather than the main stairs, to avoid the bulk of the party and resurfaced on the opposite side of the house from the ballroom.

She was idling towards the dining room to peruse the cake selection when she found herself suddenly caught in a doorway, as if held with invisible wall.

"What!?" She choked out.

"Oh it's - well, look up," a voice on her right startled her and she realized that in her daze she hadn't noticed someone else coming through the wide doorway and they were trapped by magical mistletoe. _Fucking Ginny. _

"Hmmmm," she puzzled. "So."

"I'm Cole, by the way." She looked at him properly then. Cole was tall and on the lanky side but had a handsome face and warm, green eyes. She wondered briefly if Ginny had managed an elaborate set up.

"Hermione," she introduced herself, and they shook out on with formality that belied that they were stuck in the doorway until they kissed.

"I appreciate your professionalism, Hermione," he said, his tone serious but his eyes joking.

"Well, I am a solicitor," she deadpanned.

He smiled. "Oh- you're Ginny's solicitor aren't you?"

"Unfortunately," she admitted. "Do you work for her also?"

He nodded. "I was a curse-breaker in Ireland for several years. I met Bill a few times and when I decided to move back to London he referred me to Ginny."

She gave him a rueful smile. "How quickly did you regret that?"

He laughed. "Very quickly. I've disarmed deadly enchantments that were less formidable."

"And yet here you are tonight - proving free booze is a powerful motivator."

"Actually, I'm here on assignment - I did all the warding on the house. It was complicated stuff, to layer in permanent full access for Ginny and Harry, and temporary full access for staff, and temporary restricted access for guests, and then to add in the appropriate general safety charms. This is the first time the wards are being tested at capacity and I'm just here to make sure it all holds up. It was part of my contractual obligation - I'm sure in no part thanks to you," he teased. "But I'm sorry to bore you with it."

Hermione could sense this would be a topic she would be greatly more interested in when she was a little more sober. "No, I think it's very interesting," she insisted. "It is complicated. Like the intricacies of law - but in magic."

"Well- since you're interested, I'll bore you a little longer- these very mistletoe are some of my proudest accomplishments."

She looked up to inspect the mistletoe again. "It just looks like mistletoe," she said, confused. "What did you do?"

"Magical mistletoe has a strong predilection for forcing affection," he explained. "However, I have a charm that persuades it to release its intended victims in certain circumstances. Namely when one finds oneself stuck under the mistletoe with someone of improper age - for obvious reasons- but also I added a series of code words that also undo it's spell."

She looked up again and was somewhat impressed. "What are the code words?" She asked.

"Would you care to guess? I'll give you a hint- the code words are all words or phrases that would likely be uttered by an unhappy pairing, but not a happy one. I tried to be logical about it."

She was far too drunk for this but liked this game and so she thought deeply about it. "... ummmm… Shit," she tried. "Bugger. Stupid plant. Damnit," she said finally and she could feel the magic release the invisible walls holding them in the place and also felt the deep satisfaction of being right.

"Damnit?" She asked him.

"Yes - I figured anyone who would be cursing about it wouldn't be too happy to be caught under the mistletoe... Although your other guesses were also quite fitting," he said with a wink and she supposed she should probably feel more ashamed for her improper language. "Would you like to get a drink? If we linger too long the magic will catch us again." She didn't know if that was a bad thing after all but followed him back to the bar.

She skimmed the menu again and finally found the drink she suspected Malfoy had given her - the "You're looking Fineapple", apparently: rum, coconut water, and pineapple juice. She supposed the coconut water was hydrating enough to prevent a terrible hangover. She had always heard that drinking the same alcohol was better than mixing over the course of the night, so she stuck to her "Fineapple" and ordered a double. Cole ordered a whiskey on the rocks like a badass grown adult and led her to a quiet corner.

She spun a globe idly on its stand. "Do you travel much?"

His hand ghosted over hers and applied just enough pressure to stop the spinning. "A bit, for work, mostly. I was born here," he said, his fingers trailing over hers to a spot on the map in Wales. "Far out on the peninsula. It was beautiful but cold and windy constantly. And then from there, I went to Hogwarts - I think I was a few years ahead of you, maybe - and then and again, it was cold and windy."

"Too cold to be a proper school for children," she agreed.

He nodded. "Quite right. From there I started working in London, for a bit, and then Ireland for much longer, though I did a short stint in Iceland and Greenland, too, studying some curses left by an ancient civilization that was very similar to that in Kilkenny. All beautiful, all cold and windy." She hadn't moved her hand from where it was steadying the globe, and with his gestures he had casually caressed the back of her hand and she didn't hate it.

"Well, at least you have a type. And hopefully at least one good sweater."

He laughed. She was funnier when she was drunk, or he laughed easier when he was drunk, either way. He tapped her fingers. "What about you?"

"Born here" she pointed. "Outside London. Not as cold, fortunately. But then Hogwarts, obviously, and then London again. Not terribly interesting. But I've been with my parents to France, and to visit an aunt in Ireland, and my parents live in Australia now." She spun the globe to point to Sydney, far too far away from London. "I'm visiting them, leaving tomorrow, actually, with Annika."

"Your parents are very wise. Sydney is significantly less cold and windy, I have heard."

"I can confirm," she said with joking seriousness. "And it's a nice reprieve to visit over the holidays, because it's their summer during our winter."

"Very convenient," he nodded. "Um, who is Annika, though?" He asked.

"My daughter," she said. _Oh shit, my daughter_. The weight of her admission was delayed by her inebriation and it was only after she said it that she realized probably having a child was a serious disclaimer in adult dating.

To his credit, she flinched at this admission but he did not. "Oh, you have a daughter?" He asked, as if having a dependent human were just like having a cat. She did notice he surreptitiously double-checked her left hand, still resting on the globe.

She nodded. "Yes, her name is Annika. She's three and a half now. She's mostly terrible but I've been told it's just her age and for some reason I love her anyway."

He nodded. "I have a nephew - not the same, I know- around the same age, and feel the same. I never thought it would be possible to love someone who constantly called me a "potty-face" for refusing him extra sweets".

Hermione laughed. "'Ninny-toot' is Annika's go-to insult these days," she confided.

"Ah, interesting - and is that a noun, a verb, or an adjective?" He pondered.

"Excellent question. Allow me to use it in a sentence. As Annika would say: 'mummy you is a ninny-toot.' So noun, I believe."

It looked like he was about to say something when they were suddenly interrupted by "THERE YOU ARE". Shit. Ginny.

A small mousy boy was behind Ginny. Oh no no no no. "Hermione, I wanted to introduce you to -" Ginny stopped suddenly as if just noticing that Hermione was already engaged in a conversation. "Nevermind! I've just realized I've forgotten about the surprise for midnight! Must go check on it!" She spun on her heel and yanked the mousy boy with her.

"But-" he protested.

"Read the room," Ginny hissed. "_Ocupado_." And pulled him away.

Hermione flushed and couldn't look back at Cole. Of course Ginny would try setting her up with someone. She was glad she was talking to someone else, if only to avoid that mess. "That was one of Ginny's more interesting moments," she said finally.

"Do you want to go hide from your very scary best friend, maybe?" He asked.

She nodded. "Let me get one more of these and then yes - absolutely."

They topped off their drinks, and then he linked he slipped his free hand around her elbow and finagled them through the crowd and into a hidden passage in the library wall.

"Whoa," Hermione said, drunk and dumfounded. "I camped in this house for weeks and never knew about this."

"It's old architecture," he explained. "Many of these old homes have them to make it easier for servant's to get around unnoticed between their chores. But also I was supposed to make sure no one had access to these halls. You only slipped in because of the physical contact. So maybe don't tell Ginny that I've violated my employment contract."

She nodded seriously. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. I'm quite drunk."

He led her up a narrow staircase and through another hall and she quite liked his hand on her elbow. They walked passed labeled doors and a few odds and ends like an old serving cart and a shoe-shine kit and she marvelled at the creepy bric-a-brac. Ginny's redecorating had not extended this far.

He finally stopped at a series of half-windows and she realized that they were overlooking the ballroom. She could see the fireworks exploding above the mass of dancing party-goers. "So, these old houses would often have overlooks like these, with these slatted blind things, in their larger rooms. On the other side of the way the covering is ornate, and you'd almost miss the slants for the decoration on the wall. But these had a twofold purpose. On one hand, servants could come and discreetly observe the party. A head servant could issue orders, like to send out more champagne, without having to be in the party itself. Also, it improved ventilation. On an off-day the whole portal could be opened on an outward hinge to better allow aeration."

"Is architecture a newfound interest in your work, or have you studied that all along?" She asked.

"Mostly recently," he said. "I had done work in a few ancient, crumbling castles in Ireland, but they didn't have the same architecture as this. It did get me interested in how spells apply to buildings, as opposed to objects, though, so I did a certification in wards and architecture. This was my first job with that accreditation."

"Other than the obvious pitfalls of working with Ginny, did you enjoy the project?" She asked.

He nodded. "I learned a lot. And she had her moments. Ultimately it also helped me that no one else wanted this high-profile work. Between Ginny's interview style and the salary I didn't have much competition."

Hermione understood that. Ginny had "kindly" only required Hermione to do an "informal interview" which had still lasted two hours, included a lot of odd hypothetical situations, and nearly ended with Hermione revoking Ginny's godmothership before settling for a quarter of her usual rate.

"Do you have any other projects lined up?" She asked.

"I've been asked to work on some subcontract work for Hogwarts, actually. The bulk of the school has already been fixed up but some of the secret passages and things weren't prioritized in the reconstruction. I'll be spending the next few months in cold and windy weather, unfortunately."

Hermione was going to ask more about his upcoming project when the countdown to New Years began downstairs. She looked out into the crowd. The fireworks had stopped, and the dancers were still and chanting.

"10!"

"Hermione," he began

"9!"

"Could I be" he continued

"8!"

"So bold as to" he paused

"7!"

"Ask for a" he said

"6!"

"Kiss at midnight?" he finally rushed out.

"5!"

"4!"

"Well," she sighed

"3!"

"It is" she continued

"2!"

"tradition," she concluded.

"1!"

At one, he leaned forward. He rested his hand on her shoulder momentarily, and he trailed it up her neck to cup her chin, looking at her with gentle curiosity, and then closed his eyes and pressed his lips into hers.

"Happy New Year!"

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

The following is the real & true conversation Draco Malfoy had while I was writing this chapter:

No one:

Me: *writing*

Draco: Where do I appear in this chapter?

Me: You? Um. You don't really actually -

Draco: I can make an appearance at New Year's

Me: Well, thanks, but I wasn't planning-

Draco: I'm going to be one of Granger's clients next year

Me: That's not in the plot

Draco: I know you missed it. I'm here to remind you.

Me: I'm not sure how that will work though

Draco: It'll be great. I'm very charismatic.

Me: I...

Draco: Close your mouth, you look like a fish, gaping like that.

Me:

Draco: I'm gay, by the way.

Me:

Draco: Tootles!


	7. Year Seven

Happy New Year! Hope your 2020 has been amazing so far!

* * *

His fingers ghosted up her back as he zipped up her dress for her. She could have managed on her own, with lots of awkward maneuvering or a spell, but this was better. There was something intimate about it that she had never noticed before, something she had forgotten with George when their lives had changed from redressing after sex to getting dressed in a hurry and perpetually running late because an infant had spat up on her outfit when she was already halfway out the door.

This wasn't that anymore. They were late to the party, but they had enjoyed becoming late, and hadn't really wanted to be on time anyway, and George had taken Annika to the Weasley's for the night.

"I don't think Ginny would notice if we weren't there," Hermione said as he kissed her shoulder, and then the back of her neck. "She had a baby just a few months ago and it's going to be a crowded party."

Cole laughed and moved her hair to kiss the other side of her neck. "Ginny Potter? Red-headed hellion wife of Harry Potter? That Ginny?" He let her hair drop and smoothed his hands down her sides, stopping at her hips. "That Ginny will absolutely notice if you're not there, love. Will come get you herself."

She leaned back into him. "We could be a little later," she suggested.

This was twofold. She did want him, again, but also, she didn't want to go. He seemed to sense that her desire wasn't fully honest and pulled away. "You're a bad influence, Hermione Granger." He winked at her in the mirror even as he pulled away to find his tie. She stepped into her heels and he came back to her. She tied it for him and used the tie as leverage to pull him close and kiss him once more.

She nearly adored him. They had been together almost a year now, since the last New Year's. She had left just after they had kissed at midnight, but Ginny had pulled off one last Big Meddle, refusing to leave anything to chance, and arranged to meet them both at a small muggle coffee shop at the same time one Saturday, and then stood them both up. They had seen through the ruse immediately but he had stayed for coffee.

On their six month anniversary, right before Ginny had the baby, he had taken her and the Potters to get coffee in the same cafe. He had made a point to remark to Ginny that he didn't need to be tricked into coffee with Hermione. He had won over Ginny entirely, and Hermione wasn't completely convinced Ginny hadn't spent the past several months trying to interfere with her birth control.

Hermione wasn't sure about having more children. Annika was still a little horror, a curious, know-it-all, rambunctious, sweet horror and Hermione wasn't sure she was ready to embark into motherhood again, much less with Cole. He had met Annika, and he was perfectly sweet in taking her and his nephew to the zoo with Hermione, but she wasn't sure how he would do with a newborn. She wasn't sure she wanted any more anyway. They hadn't talked about it and she was fine with that, continuing to ignore all the difficult conversations. Telling George about him had been hard enough, and Ginny had practically done that for her.

He and George got along… fine. They didn't meet much, really. They had met once, officially. Hermione had made a mediocre spaghetti and had the two wizards over for dinner while Ginny watched Annika. Really, it was generous, considering George had introduced her to his last paramour over the bartop at a party. Cole had attempted some very bland small talk, George had moderately grunted in reply, and they half-heartedly argued about Quidditch teams. They both declared they were full with half their servings left and Hermione had walked George out.

"Fine," George had said. "I guess it's not Malfoy, at least," he had said, and then apparrated away without another word.

She had introduced Annika to Cole over waffles and that had gone much better, although Annika consistently pronounced it "Cold". George hadn't helped, pronouncing it in the same way in Annika's presence. Hermione had pinched him for it once and he had feigned innocence.

"I'm meeting her on her level, love," George had insisted. "Just like the book said." And because for some inexplicable reason, he hated Cold.

Not as much as he hated Draco. Somewhat out of spite and somewhat out of curiosity, Hermione had taken on Draco as a client in January when he had shown up without an appointment. He was just as interesting as he had promised the previous New Year's - he had needed her to revise his Prenuptial Agreement for his marriage to Dean Thomas.

After she had recovered from her shock, she had just said. "As your solicitor, I feel I have a duty to disclose that I was friends with Dean in school, and accepting this work would be a conflict of interest for me."

Draco snorted. "Hermione, that's exactly why I came to see you and not someone else. You'll make sure it's fair for both of us. We both trust you."

"_Dean Thomas_, though?" She asked.

He rolled his eyes at her. "Yes, Dean Thomas. Your year in Gryffindor. Former Chaser. Current auror. Half-blood. Hot cocoa skin that tastes like sin. That one."

Hermione cringed. "Ok, ok. I'm just surprised. Could I um, talk to him, before I agree?"

"Fine, but you should know that the Imperius charm on him is really strong," Draco snapped.

"_What?!" _she squawked.

"_I'm kidding, obviously!"_ He retorted.

Hermione felt the beginnings of a large headache coming. "Why do you enjoy tormenting me like this?"

"Because you make it so easy, for the Brightest Witch of our Age, and all that." He rolled his eyes at her. "Look, are you busy today, after my appointment slot? He's just loafing about at the quidditch shop. I can go get him now."

She shook her head. "No, I'm free the rest of the afternoon. Bring him in."

Draco left and she broke into her emergency stash of firewhiskey. George had given it to her as a belated office-warming gift. He had told her that every proper business owner needed a bit to take the edge off from time to time. She took two shots in quick succession but the edge was still firmly on.

Dean appeared ten minutes later, blushing and looking bashful but happy nonetheless. Draco appeared right after him, and once the door was closed, intertwined their hands. It was sickeningly sweet.

"Do you want a shot? I think I need another," she asked in lieu of offering tea as a greeting.

Over the next hour she paced herself and drank another two shots much more slowly in pace with the two men. They told her a little about how they had dated, starting all the way back in Hogwarts, when Dean played Quidditch. Draco had gone down to the pitch after hours to blow off some steam and Dean had gone to escape Ginny and eventually they had bickered and argued and played a game of one-on-one that had ended with them kissing just outside the castle before Draco descended down into the dungeons.

When Dean was caught and imprisoned in Malfoy Manor, Draco had taken him extra food, and potions, and healed the worst of his injuries. Dean had enough pride to ignore him but Draco was persistent until he'd been able to help him escape.

Draco had saved him, twice, at the Battle of Hogwarts. When it was over, Dean had found him, and in what he described as a fit of mania, had kissed him again more before disappearing. They didn't meet again until Draco's trial, when Dean had provided confidential evidence for him, protected from having to make his statements on public record by his status as an auror.

"I thought that made us even, and I wanted to be done with him. But he's a persistent bugger. Showed up at my bars and happened to walk by my office all the time. Finally caught me at a bar as I was drunk and closing out my tab and we ended up in a row in the alley. He goaded me into yelling at him but then he just took it when I screamed and hit him. Said he deserved it, but soon as I hit him, I knew he didn't, and when I cried, he held me anyway."

"You hit him?" She asked.

He nodded, nonplussed. "Cursed him, too. He never raised his wand at me."

"That's against the Auror -"

"Well, good thing you're bound by client confidentiality," Draco interjected.

"We fought it for years, but here we are," Dean finished. "I promise, I love him. He's just as big a git as you think, but sometimes, he's incredible."

"Huh." Hermione puzzled. She took a sip. "And now you're getting married. And you want me to write your prenup." She was processing these events with an odd sense of detachment, her emotions all deadened by the alcohol and shock.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Obviously not right now, though, Granger-you're sloshed."

She nodded slowly. "That's fair. I am. Huh."

Draco leaned over to Dean. "I think we broke her," he confided in a conspiratorial whisper.

Dean gave him a half-hearted blow to his belly. "It's a lot to take in. We haven't told many people. Including your mother."

Draco made a face at that. "We should just tell her when we have children. She won't care at all once there are babies involved. Oh, by the way, Granger- Teddy is going to be our ring bearer, would Annika be our flower girl?"

Draco Malfoy was extraordinary at throwing her for a loop. Hermione finished her shot. "Huh. Huh. Um. I need to think about it."

"Because your baby-daddy hates me?" He raised an eyebrow at her in a challenge.

She couldn't refute it. "Yeah, something like that."

"Remind him that Andromeda will be there. And Dean, obviously. And Seamus and Harry, probably. Although his wife was the last bird Dean dated so that might be a pass actually. And we hardly ever do child sacrifices at pureblood weddings any more."

"_Draco_," both Hermione and Dean reprimanded in unison.

Draco was unapologetic. "Take a joke."

"Mate, you have a terrible sense of humor," Dean deadpanned. He looked at Hermione. "I'll get him out of your hair before he says something awful again. I give it two minutes. And we can meet again when you're -uhh- -more _level-headed_, so that we can work out the prenup. Thanks for doing this."

He pulled Draco by the elbow. "That went well," Draco chirped.

"You're such a git," Dean groaned as he shoved him to the door, but there was a playfulness in it.

She took another sip. Huh. Dean and Draco. Dean and Dean.

Huh.

After much cajoling and some light threats, Annika was a flower girl in the wedding. George was cross for days and Annika couldn't understand it but told him over and over again what her job was and asked if Charlie might be getting married soon and if maybe she could be his flower girl. Narcissa had taken them shopping for her flower girl dress, which Annika adored and had to be hidden after she was caught playing dress up in it twice. Narcissa had also bought Hermione a mother-of-the-flower-girl dress, which Hermione was pretty sure was not actually a thing, but Narcissa had been very insistent and Hermione knew it would be easier to give in.

When they got home Cole had come over for dinner and Annika had greeted him with enthusiasm, running to the door to let him in. "Cold!" She exclaimed, reaching her arms up to be held. He obliged and swung her around and picked her up.

"Hello, Annika," he said. "Hermione," he smiled.

"Hi," she smiled. "Are you hungry? Dinner's almost ready."

"Famished, thank you," he said.

Annika put her hands on Cole's cheeks, turning his face to look at her again. Hermione rolled her eyes at her daughter's literal attention-grabbing antics.

"Cold, mummy and I went shopping today," Annika told him. "I'm going to be a flower girl."

"I know," he nodded seriously, as if she hadn't already told him five times. "It's a very important job. What did you and your mummy go shopping for?"

"We went shopping with Arcisa and mummy bought a dress for the wedding! She looks _very pretty_," Annika confided.

"Oh does she? What does her dress look like?" He asked.

"It's purple and has a swishy skirt!" Annika exclaimed. "It's the _most_ pretty." Annika turned to her mother suddenly. "Mummy, you fashion show your dress for Cold!"

"Not right now, Annie, I'm finishing dinner."

"_Please, mummy_!" Annika whined.

"_Please, Hermione!" _Cole seconded.

She pinched his arm teasingly. "Alright then-but you have to mind dinner for a moment."

When she came out he wolf-whistled her playfully and Annika clapped.

"Do a spin, mummy!" She insisted, and Hermione obliged. The mid-length skirt floated around her knees. "See!" She exclaimed to Cole. "It's the _most _pretty."

"It is a very beautiful dress," Cole agreed. "But I think your mummy is _even prettier_."

This was lost on Annika. "No, but Cold, the dress is the most pretty," she insisted.

Hermione found that too hilarious to be offended. "Well, I think that's my cue to change back."

Annika promptly lost interest and went back to coloring but Cole caught up to her in the hallway. He wrapped his hands around her waist and stopped her, one foot in her bedroom, and pulled her back into him. He kissed the side of her neck and then lifted his head to whisper into her ear "The dress is pretty, but you'd be even prettier if it were on the floor."

Hermione was glad her back was turned so he couldn't see the blush rise from her chest to the top of her ears, though she was sure he felt her tremble for a moment against him.

"Let me change," she demurred. "Dinner is on the stove."

He kissed her neck again and then disappeared without another word back into the kitchen.

She closed her bedroom door and locked it behind her and finally took a breath and sprawled out onto her bed. He was the first person she had slept with since George and she had thought it would be awkward, but it had been disorienting instead. He had been respectful of her rules about Annika and waiting for her to be ready, but even now, having been sleeping together for months, displays like that left her slightly unsettled.

She changed quickly and went back into the kitchen. Cole had kept it from burning down and had set the table, and they settled down together for dinner.

* * *

"Mummy, you're right on time!" Annika squealed as Hermione walked in to George's cottage. George's living room had been converted to a makeshift chapel. All the chairs and stools in the house had been pushed into two slightly uneven sections with an aisle between. Annika's stuffed animals and dolls sat in most of the chairs, and at the front of the chapel were two teddy bears. Hermione would have to tell Dean that Annika probably thought about his wedding as much as Narcissa did. It was all the entertainment the three year old needed.

"We are practicing being a flower girl," Veronica said, as if it weren't abundantly clear.

"Mummy, sit down," Annika ordered.

"_Please," _Hermione added. "Don't forget your manners."

"Mummy, _please _sit down," Annika ordered slightly more softly and Hermione knew that manners were going to be an uphill battle.

She took her seat near the front. "So don't forget that when you get to the front with Mr Dean and Mr Draco, you go to the right and all the way around, and then that's where I'll be."

"Ready, Annie?" Veronica asked, and Hermione hated that she was using George's pet name for their daughter.

"Ready!" Annika exclaimed.

Veronica began to hum the wedding march, and Annika started her walk down the aisle. She had put pieces of paper in a kitchen bowl and would step and drop them slowly. She got to her bears at the front, dumped the remaining papers, and then skipped to her mother.

"Did I do good?" She demanded and Hermione laughed and tickled her.

"You did _so good_," Hermione promised.

"Let's practice one more time, Annie," Veronica interjected. "This time, if you have any flower petals left, you don't need to dump them out."

Hermione personally thought that was the best part of her routine but wasn't going to argue with Veronica.

She was saved from it by George calling from Annika's room for Annika to pack her toys. Annika skipped off and Hermione began to straighten the chairs and clean up the "flower petals".

"You know, Hermione, you should maybe knock before you come in," Veronica said once Annika was out of earshot.

It took Hermione totally by surprise, and she stood in dumb shock for a moment.

"Hermione doesn't need to knock," George interrupted. He had suddenly appeared out of Annika's room and caught Veronica's comment. He closed the door behind him.

Veronica at least had the decency to blush. "I just meant-," she tried to mollify.

George shook his head. "Hermione doesn't need to knock here," he insisted. "This used to be her home. It's still my home and our daughter's home. She's always welcome and she doesn't need to knock."

Hermione was saved from the heavy awkwardness in the room by Annika bursting out of her bedroom with four books and a stuffed bunny under her arm. "I'm ready!" She declared. "Can we bring Deab Bear and Dracko Bear too? I need to pactice more."

"Of course, darling," Hermione said, and picked up the two bears at the front of the chapel. "But you need to clean up the living room too before you leave. This is quite a mess."

The three adults and Annika cleaned the living room and returned all the chairs to their proper places quickly in an awkward silence while Annika hummed an off-key wedding march.

When they were down Hermione picked up Annika's bag. "Alrrighty, Ann, say goodnight to your daddy and Veronica."

"Goodnight!" Annika chirped.

George picked her up and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, Annie. Be good for your mum."

Annika made a face at that and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Nice try."

George handed Annika to Hermione and opened the door for them. As she walked to the corner of the lot with the apparation wards, she turned to look back at the house, and saw George still watching them from the doorway. She waved her hand at him as best as she could with Annika's duffle on her shoulder, and then disapparated.

* * *

"Mummy, what's married?" Annika asked as she colored at the table. Hermione was dropping her off and George had just gotten home and was washing up and trying to remove a bad bit of self-tattooing ink that had exploded over his forearm, giving him the appearance of bright green gills. Annika had told him he was a very handsome mermaid and asked why he was washing it off.

It was the Age of Too Many Question. For the Brightest Witch of Her Age, Hermione had not seen that coming. It was bloody annoying. She sometimes wished Annika would go back to just crying all the time. It had only gotten worse with her starting pre-kindergarten. She learned too many things from the other children and came back home with Big Questions.

"Like who is married?" Hermione asked. "Your Grandmolly is married to your Grampy, and your Gigi is married to your Pop-pop. Aunt Ginny is married to Uncle Harry. Aunt Fleur is married to Uncle Bill."

Annika scrunched her face at this. It was still not answering her question. "Is a wedding so that people can get married?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, that is what happens."

"Then what does it mean married?"

Fuck. Where was George when she needed him? She could see where this line of questioning was going really fast and it was going nowhere good. She needed to give a vague and innocuous answer so Annika wouldn't think too much about the odd situation her parents were in.

"Well, you know how you love Teddy? And you love me, and your daddy? But maybe you love us a little different? You love Teddy because he's your friend and you play and you love me and daddy because we play with you some too, but we also take care of you and make you dinner and tuck you in. And when you're a grown up, sometimes there are other ways you can love people very much, and then you want to be together forever, and that's when people get married."

"Are you and daddy married?" Annika asked blithely.

"No, we aren't, but we still love each other, because we are friends and we play together and we have you together."

"Are you going to be together forever anyway?"

"We'll always be there for you," Hermione demurred.

Annika frowned like she knew this was not a real answer to her question but wasn't sure why.

"Are you married to Cold?"

Voldemort could resurrect from the ashes and end this conversation for her. "No."

"Are you going to marry Cold?"

"I don't know. Maybe if we decide we love each other like that one day." Hermione frantically tried to think of a constructive way to tell Annika to stop asking about marriage.

"Why wouldn't you love each other like that?"

"Well, forever is a long time. What if you could only have one book forever? That would be a hard decision. There would be a lot of books you would like but wouldn't keep forever."

"Granger, you're doing a horrible job at this. Our daughter is going to grow up polyamorous because she thinks liking people is the same as liking books and she likes lots of books," George murmured in her ear, sneaking up behind her. Fuck. Maybe he was right.

Luckily, Annika skipped back a beat. "If you do marry Cold, can I be flower girl?"

Hermione nodded. "I promise if I ever get married you can be the flower girl."

Annika grinned and looked at her father. "Daddy, if you marry Veronica, can I be the flower girl?"

"I don't think Veronica and I are going to get married, Annie. But if I do ever get married, you will be the flower girl for sure."

Annika frowned. "Why won't you marry Veronica?" Annika said, verbalizing what Hermione was also thinking.

"Veronica and I just don't love each other that way. We like each other a lot but decided we aren't good friends."

This was perplexing to Annika. "Katy and I aren't friends because she only plays with egos and I don't like them," she said. "Do you and Veronica not like the same toys?" She asked.

"Something like that."

Annika looked at him with all the sage wisdom a four year could muster. "Missus Beessley says sometimes you have to play with your friend even if you don't like their games. Because you have to _comperize_."

"Well, Missus Beasley is very wise, but sometimes you find out your friends aren't playing with the rules, and you need friends who are honest."

Annika looked sad and tugged on George's pants for him to pick her up. When they were eye-level, she put her hands on his cheeks. "I sorry Veronica cheated, daddy. I will play a game with you and you can win."

George laughed despite her earnestness. "Thanks, Annie. You always cheer me up. You want to play a game with your mum? She plays with the rules but she's wicked good."

Annika scampered to the closet to pick a game and Hermione looked at George.

"I'm sorry, George." She said. "I didn't know."

He scrubbed a hand over his afternoon stubble. "Thanks. It's fine, though, really. She wasn't right for me."

Annika returned with Mousetrap! and and they spent the next two hours playing together at the coffee table, and Hermione forgot she was only supposed to drop Annika off before meeting Cole for drinks.

* * *

Annika's months of practicing finally led up to her 60 seconds of fame. She walked down the aisle by herself to the wedding march just after Pansy Parkinson did and there was a terrible part of Hermione that was quite pleased the dress Narcissa had picked for her was prettier than Pansy's dress. Or, in Annika's words, the _most pretty_.

Annika walked with a nice pace, scattering her petals evenly down the aisle, and when she got to the front of the chapel, she did not dump out the rest of her basket, but instead circled the pew to sit next to Hermione.

"You did perfect, Annie," George leaned over to whisper as Annika crawled over her mother to sit between her parents, and Annika beamed.

Cole had gotten sick the day before and George had accompanied them to the wedding instead. He had offered himself and Hermione was fairly certain it wasn't so that he could sneak in curse both grooms on their wedding day.

For all the fuss leading up to it, the wedding was fine. It was beautiful and lavish and amazing, but it was still a wedding. They were escorted to their reception seats by a butler - because apparently a bespoke board with names wouldn't do for the Malfoys- with Neville and Luna and Harry and a very pregnant Ginny, and were served a fancy chicken dish and the wedding party gave speeches with poorly advised attempts at humor and the grooms cut the cake and danced with their mothers and then with each other.

"Mummy, can I go dance now?" Annika pleaded after she'd finished her cake and half of Hermione's too, while Hermione slowly worked through her remaining half of the cake. This was the third time she had asked, and Hermione said told her it wasn't polite to dance before the new couple had their first dance.

"Come on, Annie, I'll dance with you," George intervened. "Mummy's finishing what little of her cake you left her."

She watched them make their way to the dance floor. George had Annika stand on his feet and he walked her through the steps of a foxtrot. She never would have guessed before, what an amazing dad he would be, and now she couldn't believe she had ever _not_ known.

She finished her cake and went to the bathroom to fix her make up before joining them. She could see them across the reception hall, Annika dancing on her own feet this time, when she was intercepted by a perfectly manicured hand darting out to catch her arm.

"She's a lovely girl, and you're a lovely family," Narcissa said and there was A Look in her eye.

"Thank you, but we're not like that," Hermione blushed.

"Then I think you should reconsider," Narcissa informed her, and Hermione's blush burned her ears.

"Thanks, I'll -um- keep that under advisory," Hermione stammered before breaking off.

By the time she reached them, Annika had commandeered Dean, while Draco danced with Dean's mother, and George was standing at the side of the bar with his drink. When he saw her coming, he held out a hand to her. "Care for a dance?" He asked.

She nodded and he smiled and she tried not to think about Narcissa's words anymore. "Do you think you can manage without standing on my feet? They're a little sore now," he asked.

She laughed. "I think I can manage."

He held her close, his hand on the small of her back. "This wasn't terrible, you know," he told her begrudgingly. "I'm sorry I threw such a fit about it at first. But this was nice. Annika was so happy. And you look beautiful."

She rested her cheek against his chest to hide her face. "Thanks for coming. I was really glad you could."

He didn't say anything else, and they danced for another song, and then one more. She watched Annika dance with Dean, and then Draco, and then doing a wild and silly jig with Teddy, before Annika joined them, interjecting into their dance. George picked her up and balanced her on a hip and Hermione put her arms around both of them.

She was dancing with George and their daughter at Draco Malfoy and Dean Thomas's wedding. It made her happy, but she wasn't sure she had ever heart a more absurd sentence.

"I like being a flower girl, and weddings," Annika declared. "Is there more cake?"

Hermione and George both laughed and Hermione tickled her belly. "Did you not get enough sugar yet, little witch?"

Annika laughed. "_Please_, one more piece?"

"_One _more," Hermione agreed. "But when we get home you have to brush your teeth _twice_."

Annika made a face at that but said ok, and George set her down but held her hand as they left on a quest to acquire more cake.

"Ah, Hermione, perfect," Draco said, startling her by catching her elbow. "Just the person we wanted to see."

Hermione looked at him warily. He had not threatened or insulted her in their working relationship over the past several months, but she had been having a lovely time, and he always managed to throw her for a loop. At least when they were 11 and he was calling her a mudblood she had known what to expect from him; these days he was full of surprises.

"Thanks for everything, Hermione. For working on our prenup and name changes and letting us borrow Annika for the day. We had something else we wanted to ask you. Dean, mother, and I."

_Oh fuck_. Was he going to ask her to be their surrogate or something?

"I'm sure you know that the Wizengamot has familial seats?" She blinked. That was considerably more tame than she expected. She nodded. She did know. The Wizengamot, like muggle Parliament, was comprised of a house of Lords and one of Commoners, but because it was wizarding, it had to be more complicated than that. The House of Lords positions rotated between Sacred 28 families and their delegates. Only in the last 20 years were all delegates required to have the appropriate credentials to serve. The 7 delegates of the House of Commoners were elected and served 3 years at a time. There was also a smaller House of Perpetua, with 5 judges who served for life after serving in either house and then being nominated and voted on by all three houses. The Wizengamot had the power to judge trials, vote on proposed legislation, and propose their own legislation but because of their makeup rarely made big changes. One of her professors had called the design of the Wizengamot "a defense against hasty change." Hermione had rolled her eyes and thought of it privately as "why wizarding law is archaic."

"The Malfoy family has a familial seat in the Wizengamot that rotates every four years. Next year is our year. For the past 20 years, my father's solicitor was our delegate, and before that, my father served. Obviously, that won't happen now. Neither Dean nor myself are qualified to serve, nor interested, for that matter, and we'd like to ask you to serve as our delegate."

Hermione was sure she had never been more bewildered in her life. Fuck, it would have been easier to answer the surrogacy question. She spent nearly a full minute gaping like a guppy at a him.

"_What_," she finally choked out.

He rolled his eyes. "Look, we all appreciate the work you do, and clearly it's not like we have a lot of other options anyway, and if we default then the Greengrass's get our spot this year and their solicitor is _terrible_. Obviously we have some agenda items we'd like you to work towards but your stipend wouldn't be tied to them, and we'd probably agree to any additional agenda of your own."

"Let me… think about it…." she said. Her thoughts were whirling but indistinct, like a very loud party echoing around her brain.

Draco sighed. "Granger, try not to be so easy to break," he teased. "It's still eight months away. You have time to prepare. We'll give you a few weeks to think about it."

And then he waltzed away as if he hadn't just dropped the biggest bomb of her career at her during his wedding.

She meandered, dumbstruck, back to the table and sat down heavily. Annika was most of the way through her third slice of cake and George looked up with her concern.

"Is everything ok?" He asked lightly, despite the vein in his jaw popping. "It may be his wedding but I still wouldn't mind punching him."

She nodded absently. "I'm fine… he… he asked me to serve as the Malfoy delegate… in the Wizengamot… next year…"

Her table fell into silence for a moment before erupting into a round of congratulations.

"Hermione, that's _amazing!" _Ginny squealed.

"Congratulations!" Harry agreed.

"What happened?" Annika asked, losing interest momentarily in her cake.

"Mummy was just offered a very important job," George translated for her.

Annika's eyes went wide. "Like being line leader?"

"Like being line leader for _the whole wizarding world_," Ginny clarified.

"Wow!" Annika exclaimed. "Congratulations, mummy!"

"Congratulations, Hermione," George added. "That's terrific."

She felt flushed and took a sip of water which wasn't nearly cold enough. "Thanks. I, um, am going to go get something else to drink."

George followed her to the bar but waited until she could get a few sips into a chilled rose before trying to speak to her. "You ok?" He asked finally.

She felt like she was blushing all over and her eyes were the size of dinner plates. "Yes- just - it's a lot to take in."

He nodded. "You'll do amazing though."

"It will be a lot of work," she said, slowly processing through it.

He laughed. "You went through law school pregnant and then with an infant and then started your own practice- I think you can handle it."

"I won't be able to spend as much time with Annika, or take care of her as much."

He rolled his eyes. "If you're asking, Granger, if I would be put out by having to spend more time with my own daughter so you can do your dream job and change the world- "

She flushed. "Stop. I'll hardly be making any big changes. It's all a slow process. And I'm just saying, it'll be a lot for you too."

"I think I'll be ok," he retorted with a wink. "Ok?"

She nodded and he led her back to their table. "Ok."

* * *

Ginny finally had her baby in June. Annika was overjoyed to learn it was a boy and she would still be the family flower girl and had asked her mother if the baby were a birthday present to her.

Cole had babysat Annika so George and Hermione could go to the hospital.

They'd waited impatiently with the rest of the Weasleys and then, finally, were called into Ginny's room. Harry was beaming and Ginny was exhausted and smiling while Mrs Weasley cried happy tears at the sight of her new grand baby. It was the family's first time with a newborn since Annika, as Fleur had gone to France to have her baby and didn't come back until he was a month old.

The newborn was passed around from adult to adult and when it was Hermione's turn, George had put his arm around her shoulders, and they had leaned down to look at the baby in Hermione's arm together, their foreheads leaning against each others.

"He's so perfect," Hermione whispered.

"It seems like a million years ago that Annika was this small," George murmured in response, and when Hermione looked up, she was startled to see their were tears in his eyes.

* * *

The rest of the year had passed in a blur. Annika had playdates with school friends and Teddy, Hermione went on dates with Cole, they went to see Ginny and Harry and the baby, Cole slowly wooed Annika with zoo trips and park picnics with his nephew, and Hermione prepared for her position at the Wizengamot. It felt like everything had happened at the beginning of the year, and even with the better part of a year to prepare, Hermione felt like she had blinked and the new year was upon her and she was in her bedroom, getting ready with Cole for another New Year's party at the Potters.

"We could be late," she insisted.

He smiled and demurred. "Better not. Not tonight."

By the time they did arrive, the party was in full swing. The Potter's event space was booked fairly solid, but Ginny had decided New Year's would be "Their Thing" and had reserved the date on their event calendar in perpetuity. Ginny had come out of her self-proclaimed indefinite maternity leave for the night to host, and Molly was doting on her grandbabies in the nursery upstairs.

Hermione and Cole stopped by to say hello, as Annika had been with George all day, and would be spending the night with her grandparents, and also, because Hermione was an introvert delaying socializing as long as possible.

Annika made a beeline for her mother and put her arms up immediately, insisting on being picked up, and Hermione obliged.

"Hello, darling," Hermione smiled. "Are you having fun?"

"_No_," Annika retorted, matter-of-fact and irritated. "Baby is loud and smelly. We go home?"

Hermione could have laughed. She was very tempted to give in to her daughter's petulant demand, but Cole interjected. "It's just a little while longer, Annie."

Hermione bristled. Something about him calling her "Annie" bothered her, but she didn't feel like she could tell him, and she certainly didn't want him telling her daughter what to do, although it wasn't like Annika ever listened to anyone ever anyway.

"We could go home early," Hermione protested.

Cole leaned over to whisper in her ear "don't make me tell Ginny on you, Hermione Granger."

She frowned. "You fight dirty, sir."

He shrugged with a mischievous glint in his eye she had a mean thought that he probably thought he was being cute but really she was just annoyed, and wanted nothing more than to go home, cuddle in front of the telly a bit, and go to bed early to early her last day before reporting to work at the Wizengamot. But clearly he wanted to go and Ginny would be a terror if she didn't stay, and so she didn't protest.

She put Annika down. "I'll see you tomorrow for waffles at your Grammy's, ok?"

Annika plopped herself on the ground. "I don't want waffles tomorrow, I want home now!"

"I know, love, but you'll have fun with Grammy and Teddy tonight."

Annika was on the verge of a Major Incident, and Cole intervened by pulling Teddy over. "Do you want to play a game? What about _Hungry, Hungry, Hippogriffs_?" He asked, picking the game up off the shelf.

Annika looked at it warily but Teddy was instantly excited, and he and Cole set up the game board on the floor. Teddy flopped himself onto his belly to play, and Annika followed suit.

"_Onetwothreego!" _Teddy shouted and in the ensuing chaos of hippogriffs eating game pieces, Cole pulled Hermione out of the room.

"The bar?" He asked. She was irrationally irritated with him and didn't trust her herself to not take a tone with him, and so she just nodded and followed him.

She felt better after some rum, and even better after a second drink.

"We met in that corner a year ago," she nudged him as she pointed to the corner with the standing globe.

"It was the best New Year's luck I've ever had," he whispered in her ear, and she blushed. "Can I interest you in a dance?"

She let him lead her to the dance floor, and she was glad he was pulling her hand as they walked, because she suddenly spotted George at the end of the hallway. She was about to wave hello when she realized he was snogging a tall blonde witch under the mistletoe, and she was saved the embarrassment of him seeing her surprised face, because Cole hadn't noticed at all and had kept pulling her out of the way.

Maybe she was glad he wasn't alone anymore, since it had been months since he had been seeing Veronica, but also, a small, spiteful part of her did not want to meet this woman later during waffles. It was so hypocritical. George had been dating for ages, had introduced Annika to two different women, and she had been nothing but polite, meanwhile he could barely look at Cole, and had ruined waffles for her on multiple occasions.

Cole, for his part, didn't seem to care, but he shared that barely-concealed animosity. She had asked him, a few months ago, after Annika's birthday party, why she he didn't like George. He had been amiable to the rest of her friends and family, and his nephew and Annika had played an exhausting game of tag in the backyard, but he hadn't said more than a curt "hello" to George. Annika, distracted by cake and presents and games, hadn't noticed anything, but it annoyed Hermione.

Cole looked at her like he was conflicted, like he knew exactly why he didn't like George, and just didn't want to say it. "Cole," she insisted. "He's my daughter's father - he's in my life forever. You can't just not like me."

"It's not like he likes me either," he said defensively, and he winced as she rolled her eyes. "I didn't mean to sound like a five year old, I just- that's exactly it, isn't it though? He's your daughter's father. He was irresponsible and…"

He trailed off, and much as Hermione liked him, she was prepared to slap him if he had said that George had ruined her life, with the subsequent implication that _Annika_ had ruined her life (she had, but Hermione loved her for it).

But he didn't, he just let an almost-accusation hang awkwardly between them.

"When George and I were together, we were broken, messy people. Neither of us was ready or interested in a relationship. And when Annika came along we both pulled ourselves enough to be decent parents, and he put a roof over my head for years, and he's a good dad, and - I don't have to justify this to you," she cut off, feeling her face begin to flame.

He stepped back, and his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. "Of course you don't. I'm sorry. You're right."

She had been prepared to defend herself, her daughter, George, their life, more, and ran out of steam, and felt suddenly listless. "I appreciate you concern," she said finally, with careful, measured, words. "But I need a minute, and I think you should go now."

He had left, but owled her, and sent a bouquet of irises to her office. She met him for dinner the following day, as planned, and they didn't say anything more about it.

He had attempted to be measurably warmer to George after that, and they had taken Annika to a Quidditch game together with Harry and Teddy, and then they all seemed to get on like lukewarm water.

Tonight, though, she was glad he hadn't seen George. She didn't want to be at the party, in heels, where it was loud, and she certainly had already reached her limit of small talk.

She was ok with being pulled out onto the dance floor for a slow dance, though she looked longingly at the decorative woodwork concealing the hidden passage above and wished they could just go hide out and kiss again this year. She didn't know why he was so insistent on being in the middle of the party this year- he had picked an incredibly inconvenient time to be social.

They danced for another, slightly faster song, and then he pulled away. "I'll be right back, don't move, ok?" He whispered in her ear. And she nodded, although she didn't know why she couldn't just meet him at the bar after he went to the loo.

She was surrounded by couples, all very into each other, and she felt alone in a crowd. Draco and Dean were dancing nearby and she thought she might get pregnant just watching them dance, and also Draco as a human still unnerved her greatly, and she shuffled to a corner to wait for him.

Except Cole hadn't gone to the restroom.

When the song ended-not that Draco and Dean seemed to have noticed-Cole was suddenly on stage. There was a spotlight on him, and he had a microphone and Hermione looked at him with confusion.

"I'm sorry for interrupting the dancing," he said. "But a year ago today, at this very party, I met the most amazing woman, and the year I have spent with her since then has been the best of my life." Hermione felt ice flow down her spine and she froze. _No. He wouldn't_. "I love her, and her daughter, and I want to give them a proper family. In front of all of our friends, I wanted to ask, if she would do the honor of being my New Years kiss every year for the rest of our lives." He sank to one knee, and Hermione was filled with horror. "Hermione Jean Granger, would you marry me?"

She couldn't move. Every cell in her body was stunned and she couldn't breathe. A spotlight found her on the floor of the ballroom, and the bright light of it was a sudden shock. She blinked once, twice, and then -

She fled.

She turned and raced out of the room, a bubble of panic rising in her chest, suffocating her, and she had to _get out_. She was dimly aware of someone chasing her and she turned, stormed up the stairs, and hid in a bathroom.

She sat on the closed lid of the toilet and began to hyperventilate.

_He had proposed to her_.

_She had run away_.

There was a banging at the door and she couldn't breathe enough to even yell "go away". The door opened suddenly and George burst inside, and froze momentarily at the sight of her.

He locked the door behind him - because she had clearly forgotten- and approached her slowly. "Sh, Hermione. It's ok. Just breathe..."

He crouched in front of her and gently pushed her knees apart, and then pulled her down so that her head was between them. He rubbed her back, up and down, and then in circles.

It felt like hours later that she had stopped crying and the fog lifted from her brain. George didn't say anything, just lifted his hands and got up. She sat up slowly, her head swimming, and he was suddenly in front of her again. He was still blurry as she blinked tears out of her eyes, and he handed her a damp towel. She dapped at the tear stains on her cheeks and wiped her face, and then he replaced it with a fresh towel, and she patted her skin dry. She was suddenly cleaned off and bereft of anything to do but she couldn't look at him.

He slumped down the wall to sit on the floor across "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked quietly.

She didn't. She would never, ever want to. Her throat was thick with concrete and she shook her head.

"Ok. It's ok. You don't have to."

They sat in the bathroom. She couldn't bring herself to say anything, but the noise of the party continued around them, and slowly she realized what had happened.

"George," she whispered softly.

"What is it, love?" His hand was on her knee. _Oh Merlin_.

She began to cry again, inexplicably, although at least this time she wasn't having a panic attack.

"Sh, Hermione. It's ok," he murmured, pulling closer to her.

"Can you take me home," she blurted between sobs.

He stood immediately, and pulled her up into her arms. It felt so good to be held, even if she didn't deserve it. He carried her into the hall, and like a child, she closed her eyes and buried her face in his neck, hiding from anyone who might be in the hall.

He carried her to the upstairs floo, and into his house, and didn't put her down until they were in his bedroom. He sat heavily on the bed, holding her in his lap, and she cried into his shoulder while he rubbed her back.

She finally stopped again, this time, feeling dehydrated and drained of all tears. "I'm sorry I ruined your date," she blurted.

He laughed, and it was a rumble in his chest, against her ear, and it was soothing. "You cry on me for an hour and that's the first thing you say?" He teased while he brushed her hair from her face. "It's fine. It was just the mistletoe."

"Ok," she responded feebly. She should get up and go home, but she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye, much less move.

"Do you want to tell me what happened now?" He asked.

"He…" Hermione didn't know what he did.

George interpreted the worst from her pause. "Did he hurt you?" He asked, and his voice was soft and her was holding her gently, but there was an unmistakable edge to his voice.

"No, he just…" Fuck, Hermione didn't even know what he had done that was so terrible, but everything in her had been repulsed, and panicked. She shut her eyes again and took a breath. "He proposed. And he said... " she trailed off and then blurted it all at once. "He said he wanted to give Annika a proper family, but she already has one," she said. It didn't make any sense, why that had triggered her panic attack, but she knew regardless, the proposal wouldn't have ended well, and she would have said no.

George stilled. "Of course she does," he said finally.

He didn't say anything else, and she was glad of it, and didn't protest eventually when he helped her out of her dress and into some of his sweats, and then tucked her into his bed. He handed her a glass of water and a dreamless sleep, which she accepted gratefully before collapsing into his bed.

He followed her shortly after, and tucked her into his chest. She knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that they should have boundaries, but she couldn't bring herself to move, and she knew that her reluctance couldn't be blamed on the potion.

He kissed her forehead and whispered, "Goodnight, Hermione. Happy New Year."

Half-asleep, she mumbled back to him, "Happy New Year, George."


	8. Year Eight

Hermione was running late, as per usual. This year, the reasons were myriad, and complicated. For starters, she was sleepy. Her term on the Wizengamot had ended in mid-December, and she had proceeded to sleep for nearly 20 hours straight, before waking up in a panic at the realization it was almost Christmas and she had done exactly nothing for her daughter yet. She had spent the next few days frantically shopping and decorating their house and doing as many Christmas-related activities with Annika as she could. And then she had accidentally slept for sixteen hours, and George had told her to "take a chill pill". She'd been better about balance and sleep since then, but Merlin, she'd love to sleep another sixteen hours.

Also, she didn't want to go back to the party where, over the past three years, she had met Cole, kissed him for the first time, was proposed to by him, and then had refused his proposal by running away and having a panic attack. They were not particularly good memories.

In the back of her mind, there was also a part of that did not want to face George.

It had been a crazy year. She had done a tremendous amount of work, and had painstakingly pulled wizarding laws a little further into the modern era, but it had been exhausting. She had been up early, and up late, and working on weekends. One month in, she and George had agreed to a temporary rearrangement of their already-loose custody schedule, and Annika had stayed with him almost every night during the week, and Hermione stopped by for dinner and bedtime.

It had worked out mostly well, until Annika's birthday.

Hermione was _very close_ to finalizing a creature rights legislation, and had been working Saturdays and Sundays for weeks. Annika's birthday fell on a Saturday, and her birthday party was going to be at the Burrow. Hermione had _for once _remembered to do something on time and had a wrapped present in the corner of her office ready to go, except then she … forgot.

She was deeply engrossed in reading a colleague's proposed amendments to the legislation when there was some sort of crash outside her window, breaking her from her reverie, and she realized with a start that it was much later than she realized.

She was almost two hours late to Annika's birthday party. Other guests had already started to go home when she arrived, breathless and rushed and slightly panicked.

Annika spotted her as soon as she walked in, and came over to her. Hermione crouched down to her eye level and did her best to summon a smile. "Happy birthday, darling," she said. "I brought you a present."

Annika frowned. "I already opened presents and ate cake and played games and _you missed everything, mummy!" _She yelled, and Hermione could see tears at the corners of her eyes.

"I know, darling, I'm so sorry," she apologized, and she tried to pull Annika closer, but Annika wasn't having it.

"You're never home and you never play with me and you're the worst mummy and I hate you!" She screamed, and then she began to cry in earnest.

"Sh, darling, I'm so sorry," Hermione tried to soothe her, and tried to pull her into a hug, but Annika shook herself free, and Hermione barely missed the rogue fist that shot out in search of her face.

"Annika, stop," George interjected, and he was suddenly there, and Annika turned and let him pick her up.

"She's a bad mummy and I hate her," Annika cried into his neck.

Hermione stood back up on trembling legs and fought the urge to cry herself. "I'm so sorry, Annika," she repeated.

"She's not a bad mummy," George corrected.

"She _is_," Annika insisted. "I hate her!"

At this declaration, Hermione did begin to cry. She turned to try to leave, but George caught her elbow. "Sh, it's ok. Mum, can you take Annika a minute?"

Annika was transferred despite her protests, and George was suddenly pushing Hermione to the floo.

For the second time that terrible year, she found herself crying on his shoulder, and he held her close, even as tears and snot got all over his shirt. When the tears slowly faded, he pulled back and held her at an arm's length while he looked her up and down, taking inventory of her condition.

He finally sighed. "Fuck, Hermione, what is going on with you? Are you ok? When did you last sleep? When did you last eat a proper meal?"

"I have a lot of work to do right now but I'm ok," she insisted.

"You're _not_," he retorted. "I started noticing a month ago, and I should have said something. You've lost weight since you started this job, and you have dark circles under your eyes, and you look half gone all the time."

"I have a lot of work to do right now," she repeated. "It's really important, and"

"Hermione, you're really important," he interrupted. "Your health is important. You can't do anything else if you work yourself into an exhaustion anyway. And Annika is important."

"I know," she murmured, and felt a fresh round of tears at the corners of her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I lost track of time. I meant to be there."

He pulled her back to him, and she laid her head against his chest without protest as he rubbed circles on her back.

"I know you did. She'll be ok. She's only five, she'll forget it soon enough. But you need to make time for yourself and for her."

"The last bill I had passed protected unwed mothers and their children," she blurted out. "I've been thinking about her, and how lucky we were that we had you. You didn't legally have to do anything for us. There wasn't a concept of child support in the wizarding and it wasn't even illegal to discriminate against witches based on their marital status."

His hand went still against her back. "You didn't tell me."

"I was afraid it wouldn't pass anyway, and then it did, and it was a good stepping stone for the creature's rights work I'm doing now, and it's just been moving so fast since then. But I'm so grateful to you, George," she whispered.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. "I'll always be there for you, Hermione. You're daft if you think I could have turned my back on you both just because I didn't have a legal obligation to do anything."

He pulled away again, and she was nearly swaying on her feet. "Come on. One thing at a time. Let's get you to bed."

She feebly tried to protest, but found herself pushed into his room, a dreamless sleep potion in her hand, and she was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

* * *

Sometime much later, she was half-awoken by crying in the hall. It was dark outside, and it took a minute for her to realize where she was. In that minute, George had gotten out of bed and opened the door.

Sleep pressed heavy on Hermione's head, and she could hear their muffled voices in the hall.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" George asked.

"I didn't mean to make mummy cry. She's not a mean mummy and I don't hate her," Annika's voice trembled with tears.

"Sh, sweetheart. I know. It's ok. You were upset. You can apologize in the morning."

"I want to pologize _now_," she insisted. "I want mummy."

"Sh, mummy wasn't feeling well, and she's asleep. Do you want to come sleep with us?"

A moment later, the door opened again, and Annika found herself a spot in the middle of the bed, and George took his spot on the other side and threw the covers back over them all.

"Mummy took a potion that will make her very sleepy, but she'll wake up in the morning, and we'll have waffles," George whispered.

"Ok," Annika whispered back. "Goodnight, daddy. I love you." Hermione felt tiny, sticky hands pat her cheeks. "Goodnight, mummy. I love you too."

* * *

Hermione spent the rest of the day with Annika. True to his word, George made waffles in the morning and everything from the previous day had been forgiven and forgotten. He did disappear briefly, and Hermione didn't realize why exactly, until the following day.

Draco Malfoy barged into her office without knocking. "Granger, you look like shit."

She looked up, startled, from where she had been working on her legislation. "Excuse me? And what the fuck happened to your face?"

He ignored her question. "You look like shit," he repeated, blithely.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, hello to you too, Malfoy." She could already feel a headache coming on from this encounter. "Look, before you go off and throw me for a loop just for sport, could you, I don't know, not? I have a lot of work to do and I'm a day late."

"You look like shit," he just repeated, _again_. "You haven't been eating or sleeping. You missed Annika's birthday party. You haven't been taking care of yourself."

She felt her face flush and she grew defensive. "There's a lot of work to be done and - how did you know I missed Annika's birthday party?"

He pointed to the bruise on his eye. "Your baby daddy made it very clear that we were making you work too hard." _Fucking George._

"I'm so sorry," she sputtered.

He ignored her. "Hermione, you finished our agenda for the year in April. Why are you killing yourself."

"I am not _killing myself_," she insisted.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You're right. You're perfectly healthy. You sleep and eat enough. No reason to be worried at all. In fact, I actually have another case I need you to pick up." She cringed internally. Fine. He had called her bluff, she couldn't take on anymore work - and then he continued, "I need you to pursue criminal charges for assault against George Weasley."

She flinched. "_What_?"

He continued nonchalantly. "He assaulted me and accused me of mistreating my employees - for apparently, no reason- so I'd like to press charges."

"Draco…" her mouth was dry. She didn't know what to say. She couldn't do that.

"Hm?" He looked nonplussed and she had a sudden desire to punch his other eye.

She blinked once, twice. "Are you being serious right now?"

"Yes, of course," he replied, guileless as ever

After a long moment, she finally said, "I can't do that."

"It seems to me, Granger, that you have two choices: you can pursue criminal charges against your baby daddy for slander and assault against me, or you can admit that maybe he was right, and take a week off."

She realized suddenly that this had been a ruse, and she just had been out-Slytherined. "Are you _blackmailing_ me?"

"Blackmail is so distasteful," he demurred "I'm just making sure you understand your options."

She closed her eyes and took a breath. "Look, ok," she backpedalled. "Probably I have been working too hard. But I don't know that I will get this opportunity again, and I want to make it count."

Draco rolled his eyes at her. "Granger, for the brightest witch of our age, you really are a daft bint sometimes."

"_Excuse me_?" She bristled.

"Exactly how many other solicitors do you think we know?" He asked. "Wait, no - how many other solicitors do you think we remotely like?"

That gave Hermione pause, and he continued. "In case you hadn't noticed, the Malfoys don't like many people, and not many people like us. The list of people we trust is even shorter. But we like you. You're competent. You got my mother divorced and me married, and you got through our agenda for the year by the end of April - when, by the way, our previous solicitor had been working on some of those things for years. We'll probably nominate you to our seat forever unless you fuck it up - unlikely - or get elected to the House of Perpetua-very likely. So take it easy. You're a chaser in this Quidditch game, not the Seeker."

Hermione almost understood that sports metaphor. "Are you sure…"

He rolled his eyes at her again. "_Yes, _Granger. I am sure I don't like most other people. I am sure you're going to be nominated for our family's seat for many years to come. Now, _go home_."

She still had so much to do, but she stood up slowly despite herself. "And… you won't press charges?"

"No, Granger, I won't make you press charges against your baby daddy. But for Merlin's sake, could you just marry him already? This will-they-won't-they drama played out like, three years ago. Get on with it."

Ah, there it was, the more typical Malfoy jab she was used to. She didn't know what to say to that, as per usual, so instead she just apparated home without another word.

* * *

She spent the next week with Annika and George, and when she came back to work the following Monday, Draco had hired her an assistant. She was so relieved she nearly wept and only stopped when Draco rolled his eyes and told her she had an ugly cry face.

The rest of the year had been better after that. Hermione had worked hard, but not as hard, and Draco was more than happy to stop by occasionally and tell her she was looking like shit and to get more rest. The end of the year had driven her mad trying to wrap up loose ends before the term ended, and she had ended just as exhausted, but she had weeks to recuperate. She was ready to take a break and take Annika to Australia after the New Year. With George.

Somehow, they had gotten more entangled since Annika's birthday, and given that they were best friends and ex-lovers who had a daughter together, she hadn't realized that was possible.

But he was amazing. He had taken on the lion's share of taking care of Annika, and had started cooking dinner more regularly, and had also taken up making sure she took care of herself, in much kinder ways than Draco did. She couldn't count the Friday nights she'd left work for dinner with him and Annika, and then promptly fallen asleep on the couch, only to wake up the next morning in his bed, with him in the kitchen already getting started on waffles.

They had spent Christmas Eve together as well, the three of them cocooned together in George's big bed. When Annika had fallen asleep, he reached over her to nudge Hermione's shoulder, and they had snuck out of bed together to play Father Christmas. While George ate the cookies Annika had left out, Hermione stuffed the stockings, and then they met back in the living room.

He was about to turn off the Christmas lights when she stopped him.

"Christmas lights are my favorite part," she whispered. "One more minute."

And so he'd wrapped his arms around her from behind, and she learned back into him as she looked at the Christmas lights. She hadn't spent Christmas with her parents in ages, but standing in his living room and looking at their tree, reminded her of being a little girl and sneaking downstairs to look at the Christmas lights. It felt like home.

When she was done, she turned in his embrace and hugged him back. "Thank you. Merry Christmas."

He kissed the top of her head. "Merry Christmas. Now let's get to sleep before our naughty elf wakes us up too early in the morning."

They settled back into bed, Annika still asleep and none the wiser in between them. She heard him begin to snore almost immediately, but she stayed up a while longer.

She was so screwed.

Hugging him, holding him, sleeping in his bed - it was too much. At some point over the year, the feelings she had ignored for years started to bubble up again, and she felt the same crazy attraction she had when she was still pregnant.

But she didn't even trust her feelings. Having feelings for him felt dangerous, and she wasn't sure she wasn't just gaslighting herself about her own feelings because he had been so kind, and it had been so long since she had been since she had been with someone, and maybe she was lonelier than she was willing to admit. She was also embarrassed at her own libido - it had basically died when Annika was born, but sleeping with Cole had flipped a switch for her, and had never turned back off. Sleeping in George's bed reminded her of sleeping with George, and thinking of sleeping with George made her horny in a way she was ashamed of when he was only letting her sleep in his bed because he was being kind enough to take care of her.

She didn't know how to extricate herself so she could clear her head, before it got to be too much. They were about to go to Australia together for two weeks to see her parents, and after that, there was still Annika. Her work schedule wouldn't be as crazy, but they'd still have dinner together almost every night, and spend most of their weekends together, because they had been doing it for years.

She was trapped by it. She loved every minute of the agony of being with him, and didn't want to spend less time with him, but was already fraught with anxiety he would never return her feelings and she would tell him in some terrible mistake one day, and it would ruin everything between them, and moreover, ruin everything for Annika. She was resolved she would never tell him, but that thought also made her irrationally sad. She was stuck, and for once in her life, she didn't know what to do.

But she didn't want to think about it. She got dressed and put on some makeup slowly. George had already left and taken Annika, squeezing her shoulder on his way out the door, but she had been running late, and told them to go without her. With no one waiting for her, she was all the slower in her procrastination.

She finally made her way to the floo, thinking of a million things she would rather be doing with her New Year's Eve. She could be taking a nap, or organizing her filings, or cleaning the fridge, or doing laundry, or sweeping the floor, or freezing in the snow, or getting a root canal - all preferable.

But she steeled her nerves and walked through the floo.

She was relieved New Year's Eve at the Potter's was a quiet affair this year. She didn't know if she could handle a party, and Ginny certainly wasn't up to it either, at seven months pregnant.

Ginny was on modified bedrest, and basically restricted to staying in bed or on the couch, as she had been at the end of her previous pregnancy. Pregnant, bedridden Ginny was worse than normal Ginny, but at least this Ginny couldn't get up and chase her. Bedrest had put a serious damper on her matchmaking schemes.

Hermione arrived late. The bulk of the small party was congregated in the living room, cozied up on the many couches around the fireplace. Teddy and Annika and Victoire were in one corner playing a made-up game, playing no attention to the adults around them.

The room was immediately a million degrees too warm and she wondered absently if she was the only one who had landed on the surface of the sun. She realized suddenly she had not been to Grimmauld Place since the ill-fated proposal of the previous New Years, and seeing the same rooms again reminded her of everything that had happened.

She made a half-hearted excuse of going to check something in the kitchen, promptly left.

"Hey," George's hand on her elbow stopped her, and she realized she was halfway down the second floor corridor. She didn't want to face him, but she did, and found him looking at her with concern. "Are you ok, Hermione," he asked softly.

"I'm fine," she replied automatically. "I'm just - tired. It's been a good month, but it's been crazy. I think it's hitting me how tired am," she babbled, and even though he didn't say anything, she could tell he was calling her bluff. She bit the edge of her mouth a moment, contemplated running, and then blurted. "Being here reminds me of everything that happened last year, and I'm such a _bitch_."

"That's not true," he interjected sternly.

"It _is_," she insisted. "He was so good to me, and I rejected his marriage proposal and then never spoke to him again and probably broke his heart and now I'm back here and I'm not even remembering that and I don't feel bad about what I did, I just remember having a panic attack and being here again gives me that awful feeling again, and that's so selfish of me." Even talking about it made her feel anxious and she finished her rant in a blur of words.

He pulled her close and she didn't resist as he cradled her head to his chest. "You're not selfish," he whispered. "Not wanting to marry him doesn't make you selfish. Remembering your panic attack doesn't make you selfish."

For a long moment, she let herself wallow in the warmth of his hug before she pulled away. "Thank you. Thank you for always being there for me."

His hand reached out to cup her cheek and he brushed an errant tear away with his thumb. "Of course."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He was so close. "Shall we head back?"

He nodded. "Sure." He dropped his hand from her cheek, but rested it on her shoulder as he slowly steered her down the hall.

"I think there's something I need to tell you, actually," he said slowly.

She gulped. Now. She should tell him now. Because she was selfish, she knew she couldn't have managed the last year without him, and so she hadn't said anything, but now - it had been enough. She was his friend and she owed him his freedom. "I do as well, actually."

He cleared his throat nervously. "I think I need to do this first," he said.

She closed her eyes. "Sorry, can I?" She asked. She hesitated for a moment and then began. "The thing is - you _are_ always there for me. You always have been. And especially this year - this year I don't know what I would have done without you. Starting with last New Year's, really. But that isn't fair to you," she paused. "The thing is-"

She was forcibly jerked to a stop and she looked around bewildered. They had been caught by the mistletoe at the end of the corridor leading to the back stairs.

She blinked. "Oh, the code word is-"

But she couldn't say what the code word was, or what the thing was, because he suddenly cut her off with his lips on hers.

His arms wrapped around her and he held her close and she could feel every inch of him as his lips pressed firm but gentle against her own. He kissed her like he adored her, like he missed her, like he loved her, and he burned with the taste of firewhiskey.

It was absurd.

It was wonderful.

She slapped him.

She felt just as shocked as he did when he pulled away. "The thing is that I love you and you don't love me and that's _fine_ and I understand but I can't keep doing this with you and I think we both need our space," she finished in a blur and she realized that at some point she had begun crying again.

He was there, around her, kissing her forehead and wiping the tears from her eyes. "I love you too," he whispered. "Merlin, I don't know how you could think I didn't. You're amazing and beautiful and smart and strong and driven and sweet. I think I've probably always loved you, even when I didn't know it, but I know it now, and for the last year, it's just been you, and probably forever, it'll only be you."

She was trembling and did not know how he could ever think she was strong. She couldn't even pull away from him. "Please. I can't. I can't do this with you. I love you and I need you and I know that's selfish but I can't do this with you if it could end, if it could ruin everything."

"Fuck, Granger" her murmured into her hair. "I'm not saying that this will be easy but I'm not going anywhere, ever."

_Fuck_. He loved her and it was more than she could ever want and she had just sobbed, could only keep sobbing, because it was too good to be true. "You scare me so much," she admitted.

"Please, Granger. Please let me love you. I promise, I will always be there for you," and she could hear in his voice that he was scared too.

"I'm so sorry," she whimpered, but she reached for him and held him tight as she cried into his chest. He didn't let go, just held her close with an arm across her back, while his free hand stroked her hair and it would get matted but she never wanted him to stop.

He loved her.

But of course he did, didn't he? The things that had happened between them, the things he had done for her (the things he had done _to _her) - friends didn't do that. Her words to Cole, over a year ago now, rang through her ears - they hadn't been _ready_. They had fallen in love when they were scared, and they weren't ready, and somehow, by some miracle, they were ready now, and they weren't scared anymore, and they were still together, still in love.

She pulled away from him slowly and clasped his cheeks in her hands. He was tall, and she had to stand on her tiptoes and crane her head to look him squarely in the eyes. She was horrified to see he had been crying as well, that _she _had made him cry. "Fuck," she whispered. "You scare me so much," she repeated. "I love you so much. I think I'll probably be rubbish at this but-"

There were no but's when he stole a kiss from her again and this time she dropped her hands from his face and ran them over his chest. "It doesn't matter," he promised when he pulled away. "We'll figure it out. Say it again, Granger."

She laughed in spite of herself. "I've said it _twice _now," she reminded him. "I think you need to even the score."

With one hand beneath her chin and the other around her shoulder, he kissed her forehead. "I love you," he breathed, and punctuated the sentiment with a kiss to her right temple. "I love you," he said again with a kiss to her left temple. "I love you," he kissed her nose. "I love you," he murmured again against her mouth.

"I love you," she repeated, and it was suddenly a truer, happier thing than she had ever said before. "I love you," she said again, evening the score. She was suddenly struck with a sense of horror. "Merlin, don't tell Annika that the first time I told you I loved you, I cried profusely, ok?"

He laughed and it felt right, and George Weasley was laughing once again, and holding her, and it was like the natural order of the world had been restored.

"I would consider it, for a price," he replied mischievously.

"Name your price," she played along.

"All your love forever," he said, matter-of-fact and she laughed in spite of herself.

"You shouldn't negotiate for something you already have," she retorted.

"Yes, well, it's a good thing I have a brilliant solicitor in my corner then, isn't it?" He teased.

"I don't know, can you afford my rates?" She challenged.

"What's your rate?" He asked. "For me?"

"For you," she looked him over teasingly. "All your love forever."

"You shouldn't negotiate for something you already have," he replied. "A brilliant solicitor I know told me that."

"Hmm, yes, she sounds very smart," Hermione smiled. "Does she, um, already have it? All of your love?"

He smiled broadly. "Forever," and then he kissed her again, and this time, she didn't slap him, or pull away, or cry.

He loved her. She loved him. Always, forever. It was too good to be true.

But it was.

He ran his tongue along the seam of her lips and she opened her mouth to him as he pushed her gently against the wall. His tongue teased hers as they kissed, and he tasted like firewhiskey and everything she had ever missed. He kissed her slowly, savoring her, assured that he would kiss her again every day of the rest of their lives. His body was burning, from where his thighs squeezed against her own, his leg between hers, to where his hand played with her hair. She pulled his sweater loose from his pants and ran her hand over the hard, ropy muscles of his back.

He returned the favor, his hand slipping up her shirt and over her bra, pinching ever so slightly, and she gasped.

"We should go home," she whimpered.

"Mmmm" he moaned against her. "My brilliant solicitor with the excellent ideas."

"You have to make our apologies to Ginny," she interjected. "Nose goes," she declared, and she tried to touch her own nose, but was blocked by him holding her arms down at her sides. She tried to wrestle her arms free and he struggled to hold her still with one arm so he could touch his own arm. She elbowed him gently and he gave up on trying to nose-goes and instead reached out to tickle her sides. She balked and nearly fell to the ground except he dragged her up the length of his body and kissed her soundly on the mouth.

"We could just leave," he offered.

"Hmmm," she appraised. "But we have to get Annika."

He kissed his way up his neck and that wasn't _fair_ when she was trying to think through extracting them from the situation. "We could leave her," he tempted. "Leave entirely, start again anew, have more babies and never show them the horror of Dora the Explorer," he mused.

"I have very little doubt we could get more manageable progeny than her with my genes, unfortunately," Hermione lamented.

He kissed her jaw. "Hm. True. And I do love your genes. But I'd love them even more on my bedroom floor." It was such a cheesy double entendre and she laughed despite herself.

"Fuck, you're perfect," she kissed him. "I love you. Let's stop this and go home so I can kiss you more."

He kissed her once more. "Ah, that's my brilliant solicitor. What's your plan?"

"I'll get Annika, you'll say goodbye to your family, and we'll meet at the floo in the kitchen," she proposed.

"What if _you_ say goodbye to my family," he countered.

She shook her head. "Can't do it. Ginny will know instantly. I have no poker face," she replied.

He kissed her once more for good measure. "That's true. Come on, Granger, let's skive off this party and go snog."

Fuck, he made he feel like she was seventeen again, but seventeen in a way she hadn't actually been, with boys and snogging instead of boys and near death camping trips. It was like she was seventeen with a light-hearted, optimistism, soul-crushing joy.

She stole a kiss before darting back down the hall to pick up Annika from the nursery.

She was not meant to have two miracles in one night, and Annika was wide awake and playing with Teddy and very loathe to leave. Hermione had to carry her to the floo and she swore Annika had willed herself ten pounds heavier out of spite.

They were standing in the kitchen waiting for George when a wail broke out. "George Weasley," Ginny's shriek carried. "Are you kidding me? Now?"

George burst into the kitchen with a wide smile on his face. "Turns out, I don't have a poker face either," he admitted, unabashedly beaming. "Go go go!"

He hustled her into the floo and joined them a moment later.

"Daddy, what did you do," Annika asked.

"Nothing, Annie, he deferred, pulling her out of her mother's arms. "Go get ready for bed."

"I want to stay up until midnight with you and mummy," she whined.

"It's bed time, Annika," he retorted. Probably, there was a rule against sending your child to bed just so you could make out. Definitely, she didn't care either way. "It'd be your bedtime even if we had stayed. Go brush your teeth."

Annika stomped her way into the bathroom. When she was around the corner, George kissed Hermione. "Do you mind getting her ready for bed?" He asked. "And then I'll meet you in the living room?"

She ran her hand against his jawline and pulled him close to kiss him, just because she could now. "Sure," she whispered.

She double checked Annika's (abysmal) tooth-brushing and got her changed into PJs and read a story. Annika tried to negotiate for a second story, but settled for a lullaby instead, and Hermione sang the song from Frozen again, and tried nose-stroke trick that had worked so well on Elsa and Ana because she was desperate, and by some sort of magic, it worked, and she found Annika half-asleep in the lap by the end of the song.

She lingered a moment to appreciate the quiet joy of holding her sleeping daughter and felt a twinge of guilt for rushing through the bedtime routine for selfish reasons. She scooted out of the bed and tucked the covers up to Annika's shoulders and kissed her forehead.

When she looked up, George was in the doorway. He held an arm out of her, and when she got close, he pulled her into him, his back against his front and his arms around her. "We made a good one, Granger," he whispered with a mixture of awe and pride. "I love you," He punctuated it with a kiss to her cheek. "Now let me tell you more about it."

They closed the door carefully behind them and he took her by the hand to the living room. He had pulled out a bottle of red wine and lit some candles, and the wireless was playing softly in the corner.

It was all very lovely, and very unnecessary as they quickly forgot about it all. They cuddled on the couch, kissing and touching and laughing (and crying a little bit) together, and when midnight was announced, they weren't paying a bit of attention and stayed up together until the wee hours of the night.

* * *

Happy New Year :) Two more to go! Leave reviews with your thoughts!


	9. Year Nine

This was very ill-advised.

Everything leading up to this moment had also been ill-advised, but this, this felt especially ill-advised.

George was kissing her neck, with one hand traveling up and down her torso, and the other holding tight on her hip with a possession that said "it doesn't matter this is ill-advised, you aren't going anywhere". It was a statement his hand had perfected saying over the course of the year.a

But really. Everyone was downstairs. His mother was downstairs. Her mother was downstairs. Their daughter was... somewhere.

"We should go back down," she whispered.

He didn't even respond, just groaned at her, and she swatted his chest for his grouchiness. "They will notice we aren't there."

"They won't," he rebutted. "There are like, a hundred people down there."

"We are kind of conspicuous," she countered.

He stole a kiss again until she pushed him away. "I am not consummating this marriage in the attic of your sister's house," she insisted.

He gave her the saddest pleading eyes he could muster, and she thought idly that he should patent a way to make that face, because it was working. "We literally have the rest of our lives; I can make it up to you eventually. "

She kissed him again despite her reservations. Ill-advised.

* * *

The wedding had been rushed (she had heard the not-quite-whispered speculations that she was pregnant), but at the same time, in George's words, had had taken them a bloody decade to get down the aisle, it was just that the wedding planning itself had happened over the course of only three months, and she had managed to be both too fast and too slow all at once.

Ginny had already invited people to her New Year's Party but cancelled it anyway, despite not having been asked to, then insisted they have the wedding New Years Eve at Grimmauld Place, and then had been complained that they had had taken bloody forever but still left the planning until the last minute and it was a lot of work for her (that they hadn't asked her to do).

It felt fast to Hermione, but then again slow (ten years!) and also, right. She had basically gone home with George the previous New Years and never left. They had gone to Australia together with Annika in January and somehow their fledgling relationship had survived the intense awkwardness of her parents realizing that he didn't need the pull-out couch because he'd be sleeping in her room.

In February, on Valentine's Day, he had asked her to move in with a list of legal benefits of cohabitation. He had consulted with her assistant to get the legal jargon right and it was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her.

They were the family she had been afraid of missing. They took turns waking Annika up in the morning, and tucking her in at night, and they ate dinner together every night, and arguing about what to watch on the telly in the evenings and whose turn it was to do the dishes. It was simple and sweet, and easy.

She had said as much to George one night. They were lying in bed, and although he was clearly almost asleep, she was anxiously worrying that there was secretly something wrong.

"What if this is too easy," she asked.

"Granger," he groaned. "Sleepy time." He rolled away from her.

She shook his shoulder again. "I mean it. What if... what if I'm not paying attention and it's all about to fall apart."

He rolled back over with a huff. "Let's review the facts," he said. "I love you. Do you love me?"

Facts. Good. George was on to something. "Yes, I love you."

"Are you happy with our relationship, with our life?" He asked.

She nodded. "I've never been happier," she said, her statement at odds with the worry on her face.

"Do you trust that if you weren't happy, you could tell me and we could fix it together?" He asked.

She nodded. "Yes, I trust you."

"And you're sure that you got all the horcruxes?"

Now this had taken a strange turn. "Yes? What does that have to do with anything."

"Good. To recap: I love you. You love me. I'm happy, you're happy. We trust each other and would work through any issues if they came up. Barring any insane megalomaniacs coming back from the dead-which you've covered- I don't think any crazy acts of fate are going to intervene. I think we're ok. Also - it's easy now because it was hard. For ten years. So. These are the facts I present. How does the judge rule?"

She felt a little swoon despite herself. "Fuck, you're so sexy when you talk legal to me, you know."

He gave her a lascivious look. "How does the judge rule?" He repeated.

"You make some good points. You're right," she admitted. "The judge rules in favor of the defendant."

She wrapped an arm over his shoulder and pulled herself closed to him, and he angled his mouth over hers, and although neither went to sleep for a long time after, they didn't waste any more time talking.

He had proposed in September, and they had decided immediately that a New Year's Eve wedding was apropos for their relationship. They thought it would be something small with immediate friends and family, which, in retrospect, was silly, because he had six siblings, for starters.

Thus had begun the most absurd three months of Hermione's life. She had gone dress shopping with Molly and her mother and Ginny and Narcissa Malfoy which was such an odd group but ultimately extremely productive and also the dress boutique Narcissa had elbowed them into served complimentary champagne, which was extremely helpful.

Hermione and George had told Annika together that they were getting married, and Hermione didn't know if she should be relieved or worried that the news didn't seem to impact Annika, other than Annika's immediate demand to "play flower girl" again.

* * *

They made it back downstairs before the New Year's count down had begun. In the middle of the crowded ballroom, George pulled Hermione close.

"Can I kiss you for New Year's now, and every year for the rest of our lives?" He asked with coy smile.

"It would be customary," she demurred, and then he did indeed kiss her at midnight, and every New Year's for the rest of their lives, and kissed her several other times throughout the years as well.


	10. Year Ten

_**Epilogue **_

* * *

Babies. There were babies everywhere.

That was Annika's primary thought about Aunt Ginny's New Year's Party. Aunt Ginny had a baby, Aunt Fleur had a baby, Aunt Luna had a baby, and her mother had a baby, all of various sizes generally under the age of 3, and they were all generally useless and just made gargling sounds whilst pooping. All the grown up women seemed to openly adore them and all the grown up men seemed reluctantly smitten too and Annika could not understand what was possibly so lovable about a stinky fleshy alien.

Even her cousins were so juvenile. Victoire was an annoying first year and Albus hadn't even started Hogwarts and she was practically an adult.

Her oldest sister Ophira was 6 and less stinky but no less annoying. She had grown to love her mostly when she realized he would not be going away no matter what. Fred was cute and sweet and had been potty trained quickly so that was good, and also he laughed at just about everything Annika said which was basically adorable. Annika was still on the fence about Rhodes who was still at a stage where he mostly looked like a tiny old man and cried a lot.

Her parents had been disgustingly prolific after they got married. Annika mostly loved her siblings but missed being an only child, and was especially lonely when the whole family was together and she was surrounded by babies.

Teddy had come, and Teddy was ok, although Teddy had lately taken to looking at her and running in the other direction which she didn't understand. She was the second oldest person at family parties who didn't have a baby of her own and it was boring.

She wandered into the kitchen, looking for a cookie and maybe to ask her father when they could leave. It was still ages until midnight and she wished she had brought a book.

Her father was leaning against the cupboard, in a semi-circle with his brothers (would she ever grow? Everyone in this family was so tall), cradling Rhodes to his shoulder with one hand and drinking a beer with the other over Rhodes' tiny head. Annika wrinkled her nose. She was only 13 but she knew that would end poorly.

Her mother was across the room, cooing at Dean's baby Ara, whom Dean was wearing like an accessory. (How was a baby meant to acquire language skills if people only made absurd cooing sounds?)

Neither of her parents were primed to be reasonable, but she snagged one of Grandmolly's chocolate chip cookies and headed for her mother.

"-anyway, Granger," Draco was saying.

"Weasley," her mother corrected.

"Whatever, Hermione," Draco persisted with an eye roll. Her father said his eyes would freeze like that one day and Annika believed it.

"The point is, Ara wouldn't be ours without you, and you're the best human we know, and we'd be honored if you would be her godmother," Draco said.

Her mother just sputtered "what?" and pulled a glass out of Aunt Ginny's hand and took a big gulp. It did not look like fruit punch.

"Hermione!" her dad yelled from across the room, and immediately her mother turned red and spat the drink back into the glass, and her brother began crying from the sudden shouting.

"What the fuck was that," Draco asked.

"Language," her mother snapped.

"Hermione?" Aunt Ginny asked.

"Ummmm…" her mother stuttered, stalling for time. Her mother was definitely being weird but Annika couldn't understand why everyone had stopped talking and was looking at her mum.

"Merlin, Granger, are you up the duff again?" Draco asked suddenly.

"It's Weasley and watch your language!" her mum replied even as she turned redder.

"Hermione" Aunt Ginny repeated.

Suddenly her father was there, holding her mother's hand tightly, her crying brother dumped on Uncle Charlie's shoulder instead.

"So…." her father started.

"It's really too soon to tell people," her mum interjected. "But yeah, we're having another baby."

Her uncles clapped and thumped her dad's back, and Dean hollered and Draco just said "again?"

Her mother was bright red and embarrassed but clearly very happy, and her dad's free hand had wrapped itself around her mum, holding protectively right over where the baby was, and he looked so happy and proud.

A hip bumped against her own. "You excited to be a big sister again?" Aunt Ginny whispered with a grin.

Annika's face fell and she inexplicably felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes and she turned and darted out of the room.

She knew the Potter's house well and she hid herself in the library. She sat on the couch and pulled her knees up to her chin, hugging herself tightly and willing herself not to cry. She was being dumb. Babies were supposed to be happy things and her parents were clearly happy and she should be happy for them.

It was just that everything had gotten so different all of the sudden. For almost all of her life, she had her parents all to herself, and then they had gotten married and that was fun and she got to be a flower girl again, and for a while it had been the three of them together, but then Ophira came along. They had moved out of the only house she had ever lived in (except the house her mom had lived in but it didn't really count), and she didn't like her new house. She remembered an early memory of moving into her mum's house and crying herself sick, but in the new house her parents were already up all night with the baby and she felt like too much of a big girl to crawl into their bed just because she didn't like her new room. And then Fred had been born and there was so much crying and dirty nappies between the two of them and no one to read Annika books or take her to the zoo. Now they mostly went to the boring baby area of the park and she was supposed to help.

Also, her dad had quit his shop. She had spent so much time drawing designs of new inventions on the floor behind the counter, and now they didn't even go there anymore. Uncle Charlie had moved back from the dragons and was running it with Uncle Ron and her dad was a stay-at-home-dad would just went by the shop for a few hours a week and never took her with him. Her mum had grown her law practice and had a new office Annika had only been to twice. Her parents were different and her family was different and Annika had a sneaking feeling in her gut that this was the family her parents had wanted all along and she was just a fluke on their journey.

There was a knock at the library door and it creaked open just a crack. "Ann?" Her mum called. "Can I come in?"

"Ok," Annika said but her voice didn't sound right and she buried her face further into her knees. It was dumb. Her parents were just living their lives. Parents did that. There was no real reason she should feel upset. It's not like they had named their baby "the real Annika" and gave her to wolves while they replaced her. They still loved her. It was just that everything was different.

Her mother didn't say anything at first, just sat down on the couch next to her and put her arms around her, and then Annika began to cry with a big gasp. "Come here, sweet girl," her mum whispered and Annika scooted herself into her mother's lap, her face in the crook of her neck even as she cried.

"What's wrong, Ann?" her mum finally asked softly.

"Nothing," Annika muttered. "I'm fine."

Her mum pushed her hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ears, and then kept going, gently combing her hair with her fingers and then trailing them down the length of Annika's back. "You can tell me anything," Hermione promised.

Annika didn't need any further prompting before the dam burst and she began to ramble. "Madam Promfrey told us about the birds and the bees and I know how babies are made and I know how to count and I know that I was conceived way before you and dad were married and I remember you dating other people and I know I was an accident and now you and dad are together and you have your real family and you're all here but I'm at Hogwarts all year and it's like I'm not even part of this family anymore," Annika sputtered between sobs.

The door opened inconveniently again, and this time it was her dad who peeked inside before coming to sit on her other side. "What's wrong?" He asked.

She couldn't say it again though and she held tight to her mother and it was so embarrassing to be 13 but crying in her mum's lap and she hoped no one would come in but also she couldn't let go.

"Hogwarts chose an unfortunate time to join the modern century and finally teach sex education," her mum said finally. "Look, Ann, your dad and I weren't together when we made you, but that doesn't mean you were an accident. It was more like fate," she supplied.

Her dad slowly pulled her away from her hideaway in her mother's neck. "Annie, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me," he said with a promise. "Don't tell your siblings." He winked and she could almost giggle at that.

Her mum gave him A Look. "I'm sorry- and where do you think she came from?" She asked but Annika could tell she was teasing.

"Annie, you're the second best thing that's ever happened to me," her father corrected and she did laugh that time, despite herself.

She rolled her eyes. If they hadn't frozen for Draco yet they probably wouldn't freeze for her. "Well, gee, thanks, dad."

"But if it hadn't been for you I don't know that your mother and I would have ever gotten married," he admitted.

"You're our real family," her mum added. "You're our biggest little girl. We love you so much. I can't imagine life without you."

"We could have a hundred babies and it wouldn't change one ounce of how much we love you." Her dad said.

Her mum shuddered. "The baby factory is closed." She rebutted. "If you'd like a 100 more they can come from your body. Five is plenty."

"Also, it's not like the other four haven't been accidents too," her dad added.

Her mother reached around her to swat her father on the back of the head. "George Weasley," she huffed. "Honestly." But she didn't say honestly what and Annika giggled.

"Five is so many," Annika agreed but she shyly stuck out her hand. "Can I touch it?"

"Of course," her mum replied, and drew Annika's hand and closer to her belly. "It's hard to tell now, but maybe you can feel a little lump?"

Annika couldn't really feel anything but nodded anyway. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"It's too soon to say," her dad told her. "It's barely two months. But once we know, do you want to help us with a name?"

Annika nodded and realized she was about to cry again. Her parents were so weird and embarrassing and clearly were having intercourse all the time which was gross and they had made all these smelly babies but they were so sweet and so funny and she loved them so much.

Her dad just patted her head. "It's ok to cry if you need to. Merlin knows your mother spent an embarrassing number of New Year's crying, but she's ended up having a good life."

She was saved from the mortification of crying again by the sudden noise does the hall as her family began to count down until midnight.

"Now Mrs. Weasley, would you like to share my New Year's date?" her dad asked. "She does have two cheeks."

Her mum laughed. "You are such a goof. I can't remember you mostly remember that line after so many years."

"That's not an answer," he reprimanded.

"You're so weird," Annika muttered, although she would have happily stayed in the library with her parents forever, and when the countdown finished, she held still and her parent's each kissed one of her cheeks.

Her parents had gone to collect the rest of their hoard and Annika was headed to meet them at the floo after washing her face when she was suddenly stuck. She looked around, bewildered, wondering which deranged uncle had thought it would be a fun prank to hex her, when she realized she was caught under the misletoe with Teddy.

"Hi Annika," he squeaked and she wondered for a moment if he'd finally convinced his grandmum to let him taste champagne.

"Hi," she replied. "Um, happy new year," she stalled as she felt her palms grow sweaty.

"You too," he said. "So - it looks like we're stuck."

She nodded. "I - um - I think my mum could fix it, if we waited."

His adam's apple was bobbing in his throat. "Umm - is that what you want?" He asked.

"Is that what you want?" She replied and it all came out in a nervous rush.

He looked at her a long moment and she felt her face flush under his intense stare. "No," he said finally, and then his hands were on her face, and he pushed his mouth into hers.

He pulled away before she even realized what had happened. 'I - umm - I really like you happy new year I have to go" he stammered, before he ran down the hall.

She stood under the mistletoe, shocked still, and touched her lips. Teddy Lupin had just kissed her. And told her he liked her.

Also, he had run away, but if he hadn't, she probably would have, so that was fair. But he had kissed her first.

She floated over to the fireplace and sat down on the bench. Teddy Lupin had kissed her.

And she liked it.

She didn't notice Narcissa's delighted smile as she walked down the hall to say goodbye, and even when her parents arrived, each carrying a child and half dragging Ophira between them, it was all she could do to step into the floo with her sister and call out the name of their home.

Teddy Lupin had kissed her.

She was utterly useless as her parents got her siblings ready for bed. She went to her room and sat at her desk. She wanted to write in her diary about how her mum was having another baby, and how much she loved her parents, and how weird they were, and how Teddy Lupin had kissed her, but she couldn't even find the words. It was past midnight but she wasn't tired anymore.

Her mum stopped poked her head into her room. "Annika, go get ready for bed, it's late," she insisted, and Annika stood mechanically and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

On her way back to her room she stopped by her parents' to say goodnight, and found Ophira and Fred tucked between their parents as her dad read a story. He paused in the middle of Babbity Rabbity when he saw her in the door.

"Want to join the party, Annie?" He asked.

It was silly. She was thirteen and had just had her first kiss and had done loads of babysitting and was practically an adult and also Rhodes was in the crib next to the bed and would probably cry and wake everyone up in the middle of the night but in that moment all she wanted was to crawl into her parents' giant cozy bed between them and her siblings.

Her mum seemed to read her mind and flipped open the covers on her side of the bed, inviting Annika in. Annika hesitated only a moment more before crawling over her mum and landing herself between Ophira and her mum.

"Anka, this is the best part," Ophira whispered, and then her dad resumed reading.

At the end of the story he flipped off the light and she rolled to her side. She could tell Fred and Ophira had already fallen asleep, and Ophira's tiny foot was resting on Annika's knee. She could feel her mum's arm over her, reaching for her dad. Her family was crazy but she loved them so much, she realized. Even the weird smelly babies. And soon there would be another one.

"Happy New Year, George," her mum whispered over her head.

"Happy New Year, Hermione" he whispered back, and in the subsequent hush of the room, Annika fell asleep in the middle of her absurd family.

* * *

Ten New Year's, told over the course of a month. Hope your holiday season was fantastic!

To be honest - and whiny - this fic didn't get as many reviews as I expected; constructive feedback is welcome and if there is something weird/ wrong with this story please let me know!


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